


That's How She Became The Nanny

by anxietycheesecake



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (just wet ass p-word nothing too wild), Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Belly Rubs, Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Body Worship, But you don't have to imagine Francis like that if you don't want to, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, F/M, Face-Sitting, Feeding, First Time Blow Jobs, Food, Foot Massage, Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth are actual people here, Grinding, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, I imagined them as they are physically, I'll give proper warnings in especific chapters, It's barely touched but it will be mentioned, Just comment "I'm a coward who fears God" so I'll know who you are, Like true human beings, Massage, Masturbation, Nah Just Kidding, Nanny kink i guess?, Orgasm, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Pegging, Religious Conflict, Religious Cults, Religious Guilt, Rimming, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking, Squirting, Stockings, Stomach Ache, Straight white male(tm) in chapter ten, Vaginal Fingering, just this one time, not really foot fetish, unless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 98,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxietycheesecake/pseuds/anxietycheesecake
Summary: Brother Francis is interested in a 24/7 BDSM relationship with a femdom. Luckily for him, Nanny Ashtoreth's been drinking lots of Respect Subs Juice.(The fic is actually better than the summary, I swear.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Comments: 443
Kudos: 261





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... this weird thing. Some of you seemed interested on Tumblr (follow me on Tumblr, you cowards.) Here it is, after all. I intend it to update it as often as I can. I'm so excited for this fic I haven't even read it twice. My English is so bad it probably won't make a big difference, but please be patient if you find any mistakes. I hope this isn't niche enough for no one to like it but me. All you need to know is Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth are real people, not Aziraphale and Crowley. That's about it. I'll keep adding tags as it progresses, so please give them a read before reading new chapters in case there's something new that might squick/trigger you. I hope you enjoy :)

The first thing Francis thought when he saw her was that she was taller than he thought. It made sense, since she was sitting in all of her pictures, but she still made quite the visual getting out the car. She crossed the walkway and Francis lowered himself, trying to hide the fact he was in the window, waiting for her to arrive since twenty minutes ago. His guts hurt when she looked disapprovingly at his plants. He knew he should have trimmed them better, but gardening was never a strength of his, ironic as it might seem.

The slight disappointment on her face was enough to make him rush outside to greet her. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to distract her.

The moment the mid-afternoon sunlight blinded him —the insides of the cottage were rather dark at every time of the day—, a wave of panic washed over him. A part of him had been telling him this was a terrible mistake ever since they started talking. The voice would always repeat the same thing: “something went wrong, she’s confused, she thinks she’s going to meet a different person, she was meant to be paired with someone else, she’ll regret this as soon as she actually sees you.”

He convinced himself that he was ready for rejection, but having her there, completely aware of his existence, was harder than he expected. He was not ready at all and yet, he waited. He waited for that beautiful woman’s face to fill up with disgust.

But she remained serious.

“I understand you need a nanny,” she said, unaffected.

Francis couldn’t speak. Tired of waiting for an answer, she lowered her sunglasses and gave him a look.

“Brother Francis, is it?” He breathlessly nodded and she put her glasses back as they were. “That’s an interesting name.”

“T-thank you, I’ve been using it for a very—”

“Sorry to interrupt, my dear, but I thought you said you were a gardener, did I get that wrong?”

Fear took over him as he nodded again, eyes wide open.

“Well, yes, Ma’am, but—”

“Nanny,” she corrected. “I prefer it that way.”

“Y-yes, Nanny, but it’s been quite the long time, you see. And ‘m not what you’d call…”

“Hold this, please.” She handed him her umbrella. “It’ll be just a second.”

She opened her handbag and reached inside it. An instant later, she successfully found a pair of scissors and walked to a bush of half-dead roses. Francis followed her and watched in horror as she decapitated a flower.

“Sometimes they leave you no choice,” she sighed like she was sorry, though she didn’t sound sorry at all.

“It sure will take you lots of time to do it to all of them,” he commented, worried.

“It won’t be necessary. All they need is an example.” She put her arm in front of him to stop him when he tried to pick the rose up. “No, no, let’s give this a couple days to… sink in.” She lowered her glasses once more and pointed her finger around. “The recess had come to an end, ladies. Keep that in mind.”

Francis shivered at her severity. He didn’t expect her to be… quite like this all the time. Well, he didn’t really know what to expect, so…

“Ugh,” she whispered in repulsion as she noticed a slug right between the pansies. “This fellow is the one to blame, it seems.”

She tried to stomp on it, but Francis screamed “please don’t!” making her freeze.

“Sister Slug has done nothing wrong. It’s just part of her nature.”

Nanny Ashtoreth stared at him like she couldn’t believe it.

“Sister Slug?”

“I know it sounds silly, but I’m really uncomfortable with living things getting—“

“Alright, no hurting Sister Slug,” she interrupted, amenable. “How would you feel about putting her out there, in the woods, where she can’t hurt our plants either?”

He agreed. There was no way he could refuse when she referred to them as _their_ plants.

“There’s a suitcase in my car,” she announced. “Why don’t you go get it while I take care of Sister Slug?”

“Sure thing, Ma’a—… I mean, Nanny.”

“Don’t interpret this gesture as softness. If Sister Cockroach decides to show up for a tea party, I won’t be quite this merciful.”

He rushed to the car and watched over his shoulder as she gently got Sister Slug on a leave and took it to the limit of the forest, right behind the house. He knew it would have been easier to step on it while he wasn’t looking, and he deeply appreciated that she would keep her word instead.

They met at the doorstep a minute later; him with the suitcase, her without the slug.

“It’s extremely light,” he said, referring to her baggage.

“Not all my clothing is there. Just the essentials. Shall we?”

He opened the cottage door and they stepped in, ladies first. She looked around just like she had done with the garden, drinking everything in. The old-fashioned furniture, the bookshelves, what appeared to be a television from the sixties. Francis was, once more, ashamed of himself. The living room wasn’t a mess, but it wasn’t spotless either. He had tried to fix it, but being a man in constant contact with dirt and nature, it was hard to keep everything clean and in taste.

He was hoping she wouldn’t be too exigent, but his hopes were crushed when she ran a gloved finger over a wooden table and examined the dust she had picked up.

“Look at the state of this room,” she tut.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, tears already building up in his eyes. “I worked so hard on making it nice for you, but—”

She rested the same finger against his lips to silence him.

“Calm down, Francis, calm down.” There were no bad intentions in her order. It did sound… soft. “Now, I think we should clarify this. I’m always very careful with my words. When I expect an explanation, I ask for it. If I don’t, assume I don’t want one.”

“But—”

“ _Shhh…_ I’m not angry. However, I’d rather continue this conversation once we had taken care of… more pressing matters. Is your couch clean enough to be used, Francis?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s do that, then, so we can talk.”

He offered to hang her coat and she said she preferred to keep it on. Soon they were sitting on the old leather couch, side by side, in an awkward silence. Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t lying when she said she was very careful with her words. She never said something she didn’t mean, so she took a while to think over what she was going to say before doing it. Once she was sure, she was like a machine gun.

“Alright, I’ll be as precise as I can, so there won’t be any misunderstandings. I’d omit what was already established through our chats, but I don’t think I can emphasize it enough. I’m not looking for a romantic relationship. I’m not necessarily looking for a sexual one, either. The goal is, of course, make it work out and turning this house in my permanent residence, but I’m extremely cautious with this.

”We are testing the waters. I’m a full-time dominant and I won’t settle for any less than complete submission 24/7. This under terms we both can agree on, obviously, but I don’t do one-time scenes unless they are done with very specific purposes that exceed the nature of the general agreement. For both my safety and yours, but particularly mine, our relationship shall remain monogamous at all times. If this is something you find trouble committing to, I suggest you find another person.

”I know I come off rather strong, but I’m not a monster, Brother Francis. You need to understand this. Trust is the key and I need to earn your trust. For this goal, I’ll do my best to keep you aware of everything I’m planning to do and ask for your explicit consent as many times as I consider pertinent.

”You’ll soon find I can be quite the patient one. I’m not entirely a sadist. In fact, I’m willing to give that dimension of a dominant/submissive relationship up. But I do believe in discipline. That’s a belief I’m profoundly passionate about. And I am a perfectionist. I won’t be constantly looking for excuses to punish you, though. That would take all the fun of it away.

”Okay, I think that’s all. Any questions?”

Francis blinked.

“What do… What do you mean by…” And gulped. “P-punishing me?”

She took her glasses off and put them on the coffee table.

“Well, that’s one of the things we should negotiate now.” She looked at him. “What do you think about punishing?”

Another gulp.

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with… physical punishment. At least for now.”

“Is it something you might agree with later?”

“Y-yes. I think so. No promises, but…”

“Promises have no place here. The only promise we have to keep is respecting each other’s limits.” She patted her knee, reassuring. “Any other limit you can think of?”

Francis cleared his throat. This was going to be hard to explain, and the same part of him that was scared of her leaving when she saw her, was scared that she would leave him now.

“Sex outside marriage.”

She put her hand away and his world seemed to shatter for a second. Then she titled her head.

“And what’s the definition of sex outside marriage to you?”

He felt his cheeks burns as he looked down.

“Penetration.”

“Just penetration?”

“Yes.”

“Not manual or oral stimulation?”

“I… I guess I don’t have a problem with that.” He gave it a second thought. “B-but I’m not quite ready for it yet!”

Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled, fondly.

“Okay, then, we’ll take it easy. Does that sound alright to you?”

“Y-yes. Very much so.”

“Any other questions?” Silence. “If you have more concerns, this would be a good time to express them.”

Francis opened his mouth. Then he closed it. He did have more concerns. One more concern, to be clear. It wasn’t even a concern, just a harmless doubt, but he feared that, if he stated it, she wouldn’t get what he meant and end their arrangement before it began.

“You don’t have to say it right away,” she guaranteed him. “Unless it’s something that truly affects our—”

“It’s nothing,” he replied. “Just… You like being called Nanny.”

“Well, I would live a miserable existence if I didn’t, because that’s what I’ve been called since I was twenty.”

Francis stared in confusion.

“I’m a retired nanny. I feel more comfortable with being called that than being called by my actual name.”

He laughed. A forceful laugh that prolonged just a bit too much.

“Oh… Oh, I see… And… How is it to… work with children?”

Was he really making small talk now? In this situation? He was so lucky that she seemed entertained by his interest.

“Oh, you know how they are. Some of them are literally the antichrist. Some others… not quite. I like them in general, but it was my time to go. And I still babysit people… technically.”

Francis licked his lips and squirmed, trying to find a way back in track. Well, back in the track of his question.

“That’s what I was trying to ask. What do… What’s your… How do you…”

She was puzzled for no longer than an instant.

“I see what you’re going for,” she cut him off, calmly amused. “The line is where you choose to draw it, honestly. I don’t enjoy hard-core age play, that’s all I can say. I've spent a fair portion of my life changing diapers and I’m not willing to go through that with someone my age, for example.”

“Oh, no, of course not!” He agreed, scandalized. “I wouldn’t…”

“I simply enjoy taking care of someone. Feeling needed. Having some power over their lives handed to me. I like making rules and I like it when my partners follow them, even if it’s only a bedtime. I like being asked for permission and having someone who believes I know what’s better for them.”

Wow… Francis was speechless. It was like God had sent this woman to him, though it didn’t make any sense. God would never approve of what he was doing. God was probably disappointed on him. Having someone he met on the Internet over, asking her to move in when he barely knew her name, willing to let her have a power over his life not even God had.

“I’d very much like to take care of you, Francis. If you let me, that’s it.”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again.

“I’d like that, too,” he muttered.

Her hand reached out for his. He didn’t remember her taking her gloves off, but the feeling of her warm palm covering his hand was intoxicating. It almost hurt.

“You understand what it means, don’t you? This house will no longer be yours. You’ll have to take care of everything exactly as I tell you to. You’ll go to sleep when I say, you’ll eat when I say, you’ll do everything I say.”

“I understand, Nanny.”

“But I’ll also look after you. I’ll ask you if you’re okay with anything new we try. And even if we did one thing ninety-nine times, I’ll ask you before we reach one hundred. I’ll respect your wishes and your safe word and we can stop at any time. I’m not superior to you in this relationship. Beyond being dominant and submissive, we are equals.”

Francis nodded again and remained silent for a while. She was about to ask him if there was anything else troubling him, when he spoke again.

“So… shall we define a safe word?”

She grinned.

“What would you like it to be?”

“Um… What about Antichrist?”

Nanny Ashtoreth laughed out loud. Her laughter was beautiful.

“I think it will do.” She stood up. “Where did you say my bedroom was?”

“Right this way.”

He guided her to the guestroom he had prepared for her. Looking at it now, he realized it had nothing to do with her style, so he made sure she knew she could change anything. She paid no mind to it —though her nose did wrinkle at the sight of tartan sheets— and sat on the Victorian chair in the corner.

“Alright, this is what we’re going to do,” she started, firm. “Since corporal punishment is out of question and we’re just beginning, I won’t discipline you for the mess in the living room.”

“Oh, thank—”

“However, I’d really like you to clean it. So I raise this offer: I’ll spend the rest of the day here and if by tomorrow’s morning I find everything clean, you’ll be rewarded.”

“What kind of—”

“It’s a surprise, I’m afraid, but I think you’ll like it. Any objections?”

“No,” he answered, after a second of doubt.

“Then go and make Nanny proud.”

“Yes.”

He turned around, ready to leave.

“Forgot something?”

He looked over his shoulder and saw her tap her cheekbone.

“Oh… sorry.”

He went back and landed a shy kiss on her cheek. She returned the gesture and told him he could retire.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Francis.”

“I sure hope so, Nanny,” he smiled softly.

She was better than anything he could have ever dreamed of. She was a dream come true, and he was beyond excited to see what their life together would be like from now on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all your belly kink needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still on my bullshit, I see. I just love this pairing I made up in my mind involving two fictional characters that aren't real even in their own universe. I just love it. And I'm so glad some of y'all are loving it, too. As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged. They're the only thing that keeps me going, tbh. First chapter was full of "her/him" mistakes that I'm too lazy to fix, so I hope this one turns out better in that aspect. Please mind the new tags and enjoy it.

The moment he shut the door behind him, he put himself to work. He wasn’t sure where to being. To his eyes, the house was perfectly clean. Sure, some things were out of place, but they were insignificant…

The dust was a whole different story. Even though he brushed and mopped as meticulously as he could before she arrived, he wasn’t conscious of how dirty everything was till she pointed it out.

Francis didn’t mind dirt or mess. His profession was full of it and he always found a way around it. But Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t like it, so he had to make it better. They had just met and yet, he felt an uncontrollable urge to please her. Besides, he was curious about what kind of reward she had thought of, since sex was out of question.

Sex was one of the reasons why he took so long to find a… partner. He had spotted some good ones, experienced and gorgeous, with great references and pictures that irradiated confidence and power… Well, the first ones, at least. It never changed: he liked one of them, he found her attractive and charming, he swapped left to see the rest of her pictures —despite his inability with mobile phones— and… Poof! Whips, floggers, clamps he wasn’t sure where were supposed to go…

Suddenly, none of them would do. No matter how pretty, how experienced or confident they seemed, the second he realized they liked that kind of stuff, he skipped.

Nanny Ashtoreth was a blow of fresh air, to put it in some way. Her sole presence was calming and intimidating at the same time. She respected his wishes and limits and, as long as he respected hers, it looked like they could be great together.

Okay, not _together_ , but the idea was there.

He really needed to make this count. He had to prove himself to her. Even if he thought they were perfect, he knew he was on thin ice. Everybody was when they first started a… relationship, so to speak. He not only wasn’t the exception, but he had to work harder than anybody else. Obedience and kindness was the only thing he had going on for him. If he disappointed her now, he risked everything.

So he washed and brushed and mopped again. He did it till the moon was high in the sky and kept doing it for a couple hours, just to make sure. When he finally went to bed, he practically collapsed against his pillow, too tired to be nervous about what would happen in the morning.

After what felt like five minutes of sleep, he woke up. The first thing he had to do was fight the impulse of staying there. A familiar fear took possession of his chest, heaving it, when he imagined a scenario when Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t satisfied. She had already called him out on his garden and he wasn’t ready for letting her down once more.

However, he understood he had to face his fate, whatever it was. Slower than usual, he stepped out of bed, got dressed and peaked outside his bedroom. The hallway was empty and so was the living room. The fear intensified. His usually lonely house seemed more desolate than ever with her out of sight.

His heart pounded violently as he knocked on her bedroom’s door. And his fingers trembled as he grabbed the handle and pulled in. Irrupting into a lady’s room was in extreme poor taste, but he had to know if she was there. She wasn’t.

Her absence became more and more crushing with every second that passed, to the point where Francis was willing to run around town asking if anybody had seen her like a madman.

He was catching his breath to do exactly that, when a pleasant aroma burst into his nostrils. Sweet, warm, welcoming with a hint of cinnamon. It had been years since he smelt something like that.

And it came from his kitchen.

He ran. He couldn’t help it. Neither could he help the deep sigh of relief that escaped him when he saw her there. No glasses, apple and knife in hand, clueless about the fuss her imaginary disappearance had caused. She looked unbothered enough to be comforting, which was an effect Francis had never noticed in any other person. The reality of her, sitting in his kitchen… For a moment, it crossed his mind that he was desperately in love with her, even if it made no sense. Even _though_ it made no sense.

But soon the fact she hadn’t left him stopped capturing his attention. Not because it wasn’t a miracle itself, but because there was a bigger miracle happening right on his table.

There, sprawled over the wooden surface, lied what had nothing to envy to a gastronomical exposition. Every breakfast food, every dessert he could think of at the moment, displayed in front of his eyes, releasing steam and the most delicious of perfumes. Pancakes, eggs, crepes, cupcakes, éclairs… Nothing was missing.

It didn’t take long before she noticed him standing under the doorframe.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she commented in a matter-of-fact tone. “I was starting to worry.”

Her face and voice didn’t show any worry, but he chose to believe her. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t do all of this.

“What… what’s this?” he asked.

She looked around like she didn’t recognize what was going on, like she didn’t have anything to do with it.

“Why, your reward, of course.”

“You made it… yourself?”

“Well, most of it. I bought the cupcakes and éclairs in that shop on the main street.”

“Everything else… it’s just you?”

“Just me.”

“I don’t… I don’t under—… Oh, dearie, you shouldn’t have.”

“Of course I had to. I promised you a reward if you cleaned up this place and you did. It’s only fair. Now will you sit down? It’d be a shame if breakfast got cold and all this food went to waste.”

Francis stumbled his way to the table as she got rid of the half-eaten apple and the knife. He was already guiding a chocolate-filled éclair to his mouth when she joined him, pulling her chair closer to his to stop him.

“No, wait, let me,” she told him, taking the éclair away. “Wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself, after all you did last night.”

It should have sounded sarcastic; it sounded caring instead. Next thing he knew was that her long fingers were directing the éclair to his face and all he could do was open his lips and bite it.

The taste was scrumptious. It didn’t matter that she didn’t make the éclairs herself. She had selected them with his happiness in mind and that was all he needed to turn them into another symbol of her perfection.

He hadn’t been fed like this since he was a baby. According to rationality, it should feel weird, at least the first time. The actual experience couldn’t be farther from it. He accepted and appreciated the gesture almost from second one. It looked like such a natural scene, her taking care of him, making sure he was well-fed and comfortable. Francis thought he would melt the next time she gently cleaned a chocolate spot from his chin.

It went on for longer than he dared to hope. Pancakes followed the éclairs, which were later followed by homemade cookies. Then the cupcakes, and better late than never, the crepes. Everything was delightful, the closest thing to an orgasm he had ever felt.

“Now go brush your teeth so we can go see the garden,” she commanded once breakfast was over.

He obeyed, now without doubts. After that, he helped her wash the dishes, despite her insistence on it not being a requirement.

“Are you trying to get another reward?” she joked, not a trace of laugh in her voice.

Francis was sort of thankful that the garden hadn’t bloomed completely yet. If it did, he would have woken up from a dream and find her gone. It did look nicer, though. He was just relieved that he wasn’t living with a magical creature, but a woman made of flesh and bones, just like him. Having her being something more exceptional would have been too scary, magnifying the fear of losing her.

* * *

It was after lunch —a light lunch, since breakfast was so heavy— that he started feeling sick. They were watching some old black-and-white film on television and he didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but she didn’t take long to notice.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked.

“O-of course, I’m just…”

“You are lying.”

And gulped.

“I don’t like lies, Brother Francis.”

Another gulp.

“Will you tell me what’s the matter now?”

He fought shameful tears as he looked down, incapable of holding her gaze.

“Your stomach hurts, doesn’t it?”

Francis was certain all nannies had some kind of sixth sense for these things. His head nodded by its own choice.

He was expecting another call out. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she would say. “I can’t live with someone who can’t take a simple breakfast.” “Why are you so weak?” “Are you going to start crying now?”

Instead she held his hand and leaded him to his bedroom, pushing him on his back over the bed and sitting beside him.

He knew she had asked for his consent several times. He just couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to. He wanted whatever she had in mind. The sight of her there, in his bedroom, was shocking, but also a welcomed surprise.

Her palms were tender as they raised his tunic and caressed his belly. Even with his shirt and undershirt in-between, he could feel the heat. A relaxed sigh left his throat.

“This is my fault,” she stated.

Francis’ mouth opened to say it wasn’t, but he soon realized there was no guilt in her affirmation. Just the acknowledge of a fact that made her sad, and that would make her sad even if she wasn’t the one to blame for it.

She rubbed soft circles for about ten minutes and showed no sign of stopping. At this point, Francis had already closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy it. She was opening the lower buttons of his shirt and pushing the undershirt out of the way and he still didn’t have a problem with it. He gasped at the sensation of her lips pressing against his navel.

“I am so sorry you’re in pain, dear,” she muttered. “But Nanny will make it all better.”

She already had. The stomach-ache had become a background noise in his mind since the moment she touched him. Now he had given up, at the mercy of her strokes and kisses. There was an undeniably sexual subtext to the act, but he decided to ignore it. He was too far gone to mind it.

And she didn’t take it farther than that. She could have, Francis suspected, if his reactions and willingness were a proof of anything. That afternoon, in that bed, she was able to get away with anything. And despite all that, she retired as soon as his erection became obvious.

She didn’t shame him for it, she didn’t pressure him into doing something about it. She just gave his belly a last pet and smiled.

“You’ll be alright.”

She was standing up when he said it. The thing that had been dancing around his mind for hours.

“You are so nice to me,” he whispered like it was the most sincere thing he had ever confessed. It probably was.

Her nose wrinkled.

“I’m not nice.” She kissed his forehead. “I’m fair.”

She shut the lights before leaving and Francis curled up on his bed, falling asleep to only peaceful dreams of someone taking care of him like he was so precious.

Maybe he was.

For her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth reveals her biggest kink is consent... Also, she likes soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I would update regularly and y'all believed me? Ha, ha, ha. Okay, but seriously, I thought I could do it. And I normally could. It's just that college has been a little bitch and it's making me her bratty sub. So, yeah, studying sucks. Here, have some respectful BDSM etiquette and be prepared for lots of fluff. Also, some internalized fatphobia and stuff. See you later <3

He didn’t wake up till morning, when his stomach growled so loud it shook him awake. This time, as he exited his bedroom, no aroma caught his attention. There were still noises coming from the kitchen, though. The whistling kettle was particularly prominent.

He shouldn’t be surprised to find her serving tea on the breakfast table, but a warm feeling of recognition arose every time he saw her, honouring his house with her permanence.

“We’re having a light breakfast today, if you don’t mind,” she announced. “And I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up for dinner. I figured you wouldn’t feel like eating last night.”

“N-no, I…” He cleared his throat. “I definitely didn’t feel like eating last night.”

“Well, I hope you feel like eating now. Sit down, please.”

He obeyed, taking the free chair and pulling it towards the table, where an already filled cup of tea stood. Nanny Ashtoreth joined him after filling her own cup.

“It’s still too warm,” she said, cutting a piece of apple. She really liked apples. “Have some fruit while we wait.”

He tried to take the piece from her hand, but she didn’t let it go. He looked up to her, unsure of what to do, and she nodded in a solemn way.

“If you want, of course.”

It wasn’t just about him wanting to eat the apple or not. Just in case, she added:

“We never agreed on hand-feeding, did we?”

The question was honest. They were, after all, making their way through the darkness, like everybody else.

“Shall we agree on it now?”

Francis’ mouth curved in a shy smile.

“Yes, we… we shall.”

Nanny Ashtoreth tilted her head.

“I mean it,” he remarked.

“Okay, then,” she brought her cup closer and blew. “Go ahead.”

For a second or two, he watched in amazement as she drank the steaming brewage, as if it wasn’t boiling less than a minute ago. But that thought and any other left his mind as soon as his lips closed around the slice of apple. She made a noise and he backed off immediately, mouth full.

“Did I bite you?” he gasped.

She shook her head, still drinking, and then put the cup down.

“Not at all, dear.”

“Sorry, I thought… My teeth are…”

“Don’t you dare to end that sentence. Here.”

She cut another piece and put it in his mouth. Francis relaxed visibly as he started to enjoy this. He hadn’t been fed since he was two years old, which made total sense and was probably the most normal thing in the world, but that didn’t change how nice it felt to have someone looking after him like this again.

When he finished the apple and some biscuits —nothing over the top that could put his health at risk—, the tea was just on point, ready to be drank. Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t help him with it and she remained silent as he took a long sip.

“You need to tell me when you’ve had enough,” she declared, serving herself more tea.

“Uh?”

“I said… you need to tell me when you’ve had enough.”

Francis blinked.

“I… I don’t—”

“Yesterday I overfed you. I bought too much food and gave it to you in hope you would tell me when to stop, and you didn’t.”

He felt his heart break.

“Oh, dearie, I’m sorry. I thought—”

“I know what you thought and it was wrong of me not to talk about it in advance. I should have told you I expected you to let me know when you were full.”

“Well, I…” He gulped, preparing for what he was about to confess. “If it makes you feel better, I… I enjoy being… full.”

“It doesn’t.” She stared at him, dead-serious. “I don’t like making lucky guesses. I don’t like doing things by accident. Especially when it comes to this, everything should be on purpose.”

Francis lowered his gaze, embarrassed. Although it was relieving to know she cared so much about protocol, it also scared him. There were so many “wrong” things that he might not perceive as such. Maybe enough for her to grow exhausted of his naivety and…

“At least it’s information we can use later,” she sighed, finishing her tea.

“Oh, you… you don’t mind,” he replied, choking a bit.

“What I don’t mind now?”

He took a few seconds to think his next words over.

“That I’m… what I am.”

Nanny Ashtoreth’s snorted dismissively.

“I’ve seen shorter.”

Oh, boy…

“N-no, I mean… soft?”

He was expecting some sort of denial. He didn’t speak to a lot of people and he certainly didn’t talk about his appearance as much as everybody else, but he knew that every time somebody even insinuated they weren’t thin, everyone else in the room had to refute it. Nanny Ashtoreth just stood up and started picking up the table, instead.

“I was quite enjoying it yesterday, to be frank,” she commented. “Now, I was thinking we should have a walk today. Are you familiar with the forest behind the house?”

Francis nodded emphatically.

“Oh, yes, ma’am, I’m very familiar with it. I even know a place where—”

“My name is Nanny.”

His cheeks lighted up again.

“Sorry, Nanny. I was saying: I even know a place where we could have a nice little picnic if you’d like. We can—”

“Let’s do that this weekend. I only want to see it for now.”

“A-alright, then, shall we?”

He offered his arm and she took it. As they left the house, breeze blowing around them and her skirt dragging through the overgrowth grass, she looked up like she was thinking out loud and said:

“I like soft.”

Francis wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it or not, but the subtle smile raising the corner of her mouth seemed to indicate that yes. She wanted him to know it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The picnic, part one. Feeding happens, but it's more about feelings this time. Nanny Ashtoreth finds Brother Francis hot as he is canonically and y'all have to live with that. That's the reason why she's feeding him and not you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I wrote this thing in like... twenty minutes. I really don't feel like rereading it. The reason why I kind of abandoned my other fic is that it felt more like a story and I had to make sure every chapter was perfectly written and made sense thematically. Like, what's holding me back with that fic is that I can't just say "I finished the chapter, that's where it ends" and move on. It has to... make sense. I can't spend 10 chapters of 100 words on a plot-crucial conversation. This is gonna be just fluff and smut so what the hell I do what I want. But I'm so sorry that this chapter is not very good. I was hoping to fit a lot of things in it and I just got really tired. So here it goes: some lazy fluff. You'll have to wait for the next chapter if you want some ～s t a r i n g at s t o c k i n g s with e r o t i c l o n g i n g～. Yes, that's what you're missing. I'll make up for it next time, when my ovaries aren't trying to kill me from the inside.

Just as agreed, they returned to the forest that Saturday to have a picnic. The first exploratory walk was nice, but Francis didn’t get to show her the spot he had thought about, so it would be a surprise. He hoped it’d impress her as much as it impressed him when he discovered it.

It was the best thing his long lonely walks had brought him. For the longest time, all he could do was explore the forest. He always felt more comfortable surrounded by nature. Plants and animals were never unkind. And that place was his reward.

Twenty minutes into the woods or so, the trees dissipated, giving space to the sun to shine over the landscape. The grass was a healthy green, a soft carpet where all kinds of wildflowers grew. But the icing on the cake was, without a shadow of a doubt, the small pond in the middle, surrounded by nice rocks to sit on and populated by algae that tickled one’s toes.

Once they arrived, Francis focused on Nanny Ashtoreth’s reaction. Oh, how he wanted to see her smile. A proper smile, sincere and open. Not that her smiles weren’t sincere, but they always looked somehow calculated. The only thing he could ever wish was to catch her completely overwhelmed by happiness or wonder.

“You chose a nice spot, Francis,” she congratulated him, in absolute control. “I think we should sit under that tree. The shadow seems rather pleasant.”

“Yes, of course,” he nodded, hiding his disappointment.

They did as she said, extending a picnic blanket on the ground and emptying the basket over it. Francis watched in amazement how she managed to sit in the most dignified way, not struggling with her skirts for one second. His clothes weren’t half that constricting and he still was painfully clumsy.

“I want to finish my lunch,” she stated. “Eat your sandwich yourself and I’ll feed you dessert afterwards.”

That was new. In that week, he had learned that Nanny Ashtoreth preferred to eat alone so she could dedicate herself to feed him when he ate a bit later. Since they were having lunch at the same time, it made sense that the routine was changed.

Francis devoured his sandwiches without enjoying them a lot. He wanted to be done with them as soon as possible, so they could jump right to dessert once she was done with hers. However, she took a lot of time with her meals, which made the fact he never saw her eating more than an apple even stranger.

“Thank you for waiting, dear,” she said after fifteen minutes, patting her lips with a tissue to get rid of any crumb. “Now, I packed some treats…”

The ‘treats’ turned out to be a variety of slices of cake that would make Marie Antoinette blush. Butter cake, angel cake, chiffon… All types and all flavours seemed to be there.

Nanny Ashtoreth looked him in the eye, serious.

“Tell me when you think you might get sick.”

He nodded absently and opened his mouth for the first bite. She didn’t move.

“Promise.”

Francis sighed.

“I… I don’t know. I very much liked what happened last time and—”

“You don’t need to put yourself at risk for me to give you a belly rub,” she interrupted, firm. “I would have done it anyway.”

He stared back at her and she brushed the subject off, grabbing a fork and picking up one of the cakes.

“Honestly, Francis, why in Hell would I force myself to do something I didn’t like?” she grumbled. “Open up.”

He obeyed, letting the bite of Sacher cake in. It tasted like Heaven and he wondered if she had baked it herself.

“I don’t want you to think you’re some fetish of mine, either,” she commented out of nowhere, after they moved to the Tiramisu but before the cheesecake. “All this situation is a fetish, of course, but you are not. I didn’t choose you for this. This just happens to be the practice you’re comfortable with at the moment and I like it, too. But feel free to let me know when… _if_ you are ready for more.”

“O-of course,” he stuttered. “I wouldn’t—”

“I’m not here because of your weight,” she insisted. “I’m here because our styles of domination/submission are compatible and I…” She seemed to struggle to continue. “I quite enjoy you as a person, as well.”

She immediately avoided his gaze. Well, that was an unexpected twist. Confidence suddenly boosted by her shyness, he covered her hand with his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I quite enjoy you as a person, too, Ms. Ashtoreth.”

She didn’t correct the name this time. She simply smiled.

And _that_ was a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The picnic, part two. Despite what it might read like, I swear I don't have a foot fetish. My only kinks portrayed here are belly, hands and stockings. Brother Francis noticing feet is just canon, I don't make the rules, of course he's a feet guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine waiting more than three months for a chapter and this is what you get lol. Hope you like it, anyway. I sincerely don't care that much about this story because I know it's not deep shit nor something people are dying to know how it'll progress, so I just decided to write as I could and post it right away. Bad decision? Probably, but you have no option. Ineffably-odd parents are something most good fickers will only write once, so you're stuck with me forever :)

Sometime after the lemon pie, he had to give up and confess he was full. She cleaned the corner of his mouth with a tissue and nodded fondly.

“Lay back for me, dear.”

Francis obeyed, lowering himself over the blanket and resting his head against the nearest tree, elbows supporting his weight. The sunlight hurt his eyes, so he covered them with his hat and focused on whatever he could sense with his sight not there to help him.

He heard her move and felt her between his legs. She wasn’t pressing against him or anything, he just _knew_ she was there. And then her hands, over his shirt and doing no attempt to take it out of the way, feeling the curve, gently pressing. It had been days and he still couldn’t explain her fingers, so powerful and moderate at the same time. She probably had the strength to injure him, or at least inflict him some pain by accident, but her digits always proceeded with care, like butterflies floating over the surface of his insecurities. All those insecurities he never worried about, because he didn’t have anyone he’d want to be attractive for.

Minutes later, maybe hours, her body slid over his in a smooth move and she appeared in front of his face, lifting the hat away from it. She didn’t do anything else, not even addressing his obvious erection that now pressed against her thigh. She just stared at him, close and warm and all those other adjectives that made him want to pray.

“You feel asleep,” she commented, her expression neutral.

Francis laughed with nervousness.

“I… I suppose I—”

“Well, you’re going to get up now.” She followed her own order, rising from her spot on top of him and offering a hand. “We didn’t get to dip our toes in the pond, did we?”

“No,” he muttered, accepting her help and following her to the rocks around the pond.

She sat first, unbothered by her impractical clothes once more. Francis imitated her and hesitated for a second before taking his shoes and socks off. It might sound silly, but the slightest act of undress by her side felt like the most intimate thing he could do, maybe because it was, in fact, the farther he ever went with a woman.

Nanny Ashtoreth, however, didn’t look half as reluctant. The next time he turned to her, feeling the breeze between his toes, she was raising her skirts right to an almost impossible height on her leg.

“Care to help?” she suggested. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

It took him an instant to understand, but when he did, he was on the verge of choking on his own spit. Right there, mid-thigh, gleaming in the sunlight with a silver shine, was the clip of her garter belt. The boots were already off, revealing her feet under the nearly transparent black stockings, holding the elegant shape of her legs in a way he couldn’t look away from. His hand trembled towards the clip.

“It’s fine if you don’t…” she was about to repeat, when he finally reached it.

The clip resisted his efforts to undo it, though it was easier than he feared. Secretly, the part of him that was scared hoped for her to finish the job. He knew she would do it if he told her he wasn’t ready. But the thing was… he’d rather do it himself.

Cautious, he went for the one on the backside of her thigh and replicated the process. With nothing to keep it in place, the stocking surrendered and lost the shape of her. And perhaps if he wasn’t so insecure, he could have thought he heard her gasp while uncertainly trapping the nylon between his index and thumb and pulling down. Hell, he could have even thought he felt goose bumps blooming in his path. Nonsense, of course…

“I can take care of the other one,” she said as the stocking left her completely.

“Is that what you want?” Although he tried to disguise his disappointment, he was a terrible actor.

Seeing Nanny Ashtoreth shrugging was as shocking as thinking she actually liked him.

“Do as you wish,” she concluded, giving him her other leg so he could work.

From that angle, her knee the backside of her knee brushed against his groin. None of them addressed it and soon the other stocking was off, too.

He did it and the lukewarm water would be his reward. Watching the dying sun no longer over their heads, their toes found each other in ways that could be described as happy accidents. It was perfect.

“Your hair looks so nice in this light,” he couldn’t help but sigh, fighting the urge to trap one of those red curls under his caresses.

“That’s a sweet thing to say,” she nodded, patting his hand.

Soon, that hand lifted from the rock between them and floated in her space, contemplating possibilities, hypnotized by the colour and texture and just how perfect it all was.

“May I…” He cleared his throat, understanding that it might be an unforgivable mistake. “May I undo your—”

She backed away, her toes stopped caressing his ankle.

“Don’t overstep, Francis,” she warned. “I have my limits, too.”

The hand fell and the touching continued. Despite that small defeat, the day as a whole would always be remembered as one of his biggest victories. Just being with her felt like that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth really go to town... Well, not literally. I mean, literally. Literally. Part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a cute little chapter that I didn't plan to be two parts. Hope you enjoy.

It was another sunny morning when he thought she had left for good. Like every other morning, he got up early and went to the kitchen, expecting a satisfying breakfast that everybody else could only get at a cruise ship. The breakfast and her weren’t there. He figured she might be in the bathroom, but the door was open and the room was empty, and then he almost immediately rejected the idea of her still being asleep, because that was not her style at all. He took a look at her bedroom, just to make sure.

Desperation reached its highest point as he rushed out the door and instantly left his body in the shape of a sigh when he saw the car, still parked in his dirt road. Nanny Ashtoreth stuck her head out the window.

“Get in, dear, we’re going shopping.”

Francis was so caught up in the sweet urge of obeying he didn’t question that plan till he made it inside the vehicle and greeted her with a peck on the cheek.

“Shopping, you said?” he asked quietly, an awkward chuckling leaving his mouth.

She nodded.

“I need to get some things from the grocery store.” The motor starter purring, making him jump a bit. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Your fridge is absolutely empty.”

“Oh, I’m not… I don’t doubt your word, it’s just…” He cleared his throat. “People could see.”

“People had seen me before.”

“It’s a rather small town.”

“So I heard.”

The car was moving. Francis felt panic raising.

“What I mean is… people will talk.”

“About what?”

“About us… about you.”

She gave him a look from the corner of her eye.

“And you wouldn’t want that.”

“It’s not that, my dear! There’s nothing I’d like more than…” _Too much, too much._ He sighed. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I’m an adult woman, Francis. I don’t need protection.”

“I know, but… I think you’re staying here for a while, and I wouldn’t want them to be… cruel to you. They’re nice people, they are, but if they find out you’re living with a man who isn’t your husband.”

She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing, for a second I lived in a world where that was the most disgraceful thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’d be for me,” he muttered.

The car stopped and he waited for her to snap at him, accusing him of being ashamed of everything he was proud of, of the only thing he could ever be proud of… She held his hand instead.

“If you don’t want them to know for you, I’ll respect that. Not that I understand it, but I won’t force you out of your comfort zone, especially if it involves other people.” He gulped. “If it’s me who you’re trying to preserve, I’ll ask you to do the same.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. Her hand was no longer on his.

“Alright, so who is all of this about?”

“You,” he confessed. “But I really want you to be—”

“I won’t tolerate being asked to feel ashamed of you two times in a row.”

“Sorry, Nanny.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s get going.”

The rest of the ride passed in a pleasant silence.

* * *

Most of his doubts vanished when they arrived to town. Once outside, the warmth of the sun and the softness of the breeze gently forced all anxiety out of him, and the pressure of her hand around his arm proved to be an anchor to the earth rather than a reason to get tense. He still wished for her to hurry up and do what she had to do, though.

Much to his deception —and endearment—, Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t in anything close to a rush. She walked as calm as a queen would stroll through the streets of her kingdom, nodding and waving —not enthusiastically but with excellent manners— at everyone who seemed to know her.

“Ms. Ashtoreth, you were right about the salt,” the woman from the small Italian restaurant on Main Street shouted, “and the accent. I couldn’t keep that act up. I feel much better now.”

“And isn’t it nice not having to force the word calzone into every sentence?” she grinned back.

“Absolutely!”

“I didn’t notice she wasn’t really Italian,” Francis whispered.

“She was quite good at hiding it, but don’t tell her.”

Right before crossing the street, a young woman fell face-down beside them. She recovered quickly.

“Nanny, gotta thank you for making me this suit. Still can’t figure out how to jog in it, but it looks amazing.”

“You’re not supposed to, darling, remember they wanted us slow so we couldn’t escape.”

“Noted.”

However, the girl kept running and they could hear her tripping again once they were on the opposite sidewalk.

“Is that true?” Francis said, concerned. He didn’t like the idea of Nanny Ashtoreth not being able to run if she ever had to.

“Oh, of course. I’d rather run in a corset.”

The word weakened his knees for a second.

“Um… have you tried one of those?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she smirked.

When they reached the park, Francis realized they were so wonderfully close to the store and everything was going fine. People respected her despite being with him and that was honestly all he cared about. He could almost smell the just-baked bread and fresh fruits… and then a group of kids approached them calling her name.

“Well, hello, gentlemen,” she nodded before looking at the only girl in the group, “and lady.”

The child, who shouldn’t be older than seven, giggled and hid behind who probably was her older brother. Almost immediately, the tallest of the group forward.

“Nanny Ashtoreth, I followed your advice and now I’m not allowed in the kitchen alone.”

“That means you did it wrong, dear,” Nanny Ashtoreth replied. “Oh, Tyler,” she talked to the brunet in the back, “are your classmates still bothering you?”

“Not anymore,” he smiled.

“Honestly, kids these days…” she chuckled, directly to Francis. “A few worms and they lose their minds.”

Francis forced an uncomfortable laugh that was enough for the children to notice him. He loved children, but he also was afraid of them. No filter, no self-control, no mercy. That didn’t resonate with him at all.

“Didn’t know you knew Brother Francis,” the tall one —Hank, he learned later— nodded at him.

“Oh, we don’t—” Francis rushed to clarify.

“Oh, yes, we are very good friends.”

“Look, he’s blushing!” Tyler laughed.

“It’s not polite to point at people like that,” she tried to save him, just deepening his blush, if the increasing burning on his cheek meant anything.

“Mom says when a boy blushes around a girl it means he likes her,” the girl commented.

“Ashley, your mother says you’ll end up marrying that boy who’s always pulling your hair.”

“Ew, gross!”

“See? That’s how you made poor Brother Francis feel with this accusation.”

Francis felt all the blood leaving his face. Now _that_ was an accusation he wasn’t comfortable with.

“Um, actually…”

“So you think she’s pretty!” Tyler pointed at him again.

“What did I say about pointing?”

“I do think—”

“Oh, I suppose we should get going.” She looked at her watch and continued to walk, dragging Francis with her. “Have fun, darlings. And I don’t want to hear about you getting caught again, Hank.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Hank yelled, almost too far behind them to be heard.

Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled, shaking her head.

“Don’t you just adore those little hell spawns?”

“They weren’t wrong,” Francis dared to confess, unsure of what he was doing.

“About what?”

“I do think you’re… Eh, well, quite p-pretty…”

He smiled to ease the punch, but it didn’t change much. It didn’t change how taken aback she seemed. He couldn’t breathe till the moment she smiled with the same amusement the children had provoked.

“Thank you, dear.”

_Ah…_

“I’m not as opposed to hair pulling as I made it seem, either.”

What.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth literally go to town, part two. Featuring Sister Cockroach (skip if you have a phobia) and Ambigulously Magic Nanny Ashtoreth being a mythic bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Compared to all the other chapters, this is certainly well-written. Now you understand why I'll post it like this (short af) and not with a heavy scene that would probably ruin it. Let's give the straights (no tm) a little glory before I hit you with all that good 'they both need therapy' shit next time. For now, enjoy <3

What Nanny Ashtoreth needed from the grocery store wasn’t relevant. Francis just followed her around the shelves like a child follows his mother —a weird thought; especially since he never visited a grocery store with his mother as a child—, not paying particular attention to anything she selected. Their height difference wouldn’t even give him the saving grace of reaching for items that were too high for her. Out there, he was useless, and the worse thing was that she didn’t seem to mind.

“Help me with these, darling,” she asked after paying for their purchases, giving him a pair of paper bags. “Thank you, Jenny, you’re lovely.”

Jenny, the girl behind the cash register, nodded and said goodbye, all with a grin. She loved her, too, and that knowledge made Francis feel just a bit ashamed. He didn’t have any right to be so attached to Nanny Ashtoreth. The whole town saw the things he saw in her. He doubted there was a person on Earth who couldn’t see it. Which God decided to take her to his doorstep, as if he was something special himself?

Finally, they were leaving. And once they sat on her car, every worry would seem as far away as it seemed at home sweet home, hidden from the eyes of people who would pity her for having him. Just a few steps and then a few blocks and it’d be over. Then Carmen, Jenny’s mother, appeared from the back of the shop to speak to her. One of them whispered something and the other replied with a desperate ‘ _shhh…’_

“Can’t believe she’s…”

Nanny Ashtoreth stopped completely.

“Excuse me, dear, you said something?”

To describe her way of turning around as the one of murderers in horror films, would do no justice to the absolute naturalness, the utter courtesy of her movements. The scariest thing was that she looked harmless, politely confused at worse.

Jenny and her mother froze. Francis gulped.

“I’m a bit hard of hearing, I am,” Nanny Ashtoreth insisted. “Was it a joke? I’d sure like to hear it…”

“It wasn’t—” Carmen dared to reply.

“We were talking about my father,” Jenny saved her. “He was… he was a very funny man.”

Brother Francis took hold of her sleeve, but that didn’t stop her. In fact, it was like every effort of making her back off pushed her forwards, back to the cash register. She was still smiling.

“Despite how serious I might appear, I do love a good laugh from time to time.”

“Nanny, please…” Francis begged, no longer caring if they noticed how he called her.

“Big fan of British comedy, me, if we can say so ourselves. Worked a few years in America and missed it terribly. I bet here in the south is even more sophisticated.”

“Well…” Carmen started.

“Please, let’s just go home…”

Francis’ voice sounded so urgent now, she stared at him for a second to make sure he was okay. For a moment, he saw fear behind her dark glasses. However, it disappear quickly as she turned back to the women, giving them a well-mannered nod.

“I’d certainly like to continue with this conversation, ladies, but I’m afraid my friend here is right. We really should get going.” She looked down, to the left, feign shock. “Oh, what is it?” She let go of Francis’ arm to lower herself and inspection her discovery. “Could it be… Sister Cockroach?”

Jenny shook her head as her mother choked on her own spit.

“N-no, it must be a mistake. We’ve never had any kind of trouble with cockroaches before. We’re extremely careful with—”

“Perhaps you call them different here, but in London these are cockroaches.”

It was a cockroach, indeed. Not running, not even moving, but undoubtedly alive and undoubtedly there, right next to her boot.

“Oh, and it’s one of the big ones. The kind that comes with… I don’t know, rotten meat.”

“Rotten meat!” Carmen gasped. “That, I can assure you, we’ve never—”

“It’s alright, dear, we all make mistakes. See, I’ll take care of it for you.”

She raised her foot and Francis held his breath, incapable of covering his horror. Seconds before stomping on it, when he was already closing his eyes and covering his ears, she stopped and gave him the bags instead. After taking an empty one from the countertop, she trapped the insect in it and took it outside, the other three people watching in astonishment.

“All done,” she beamed, coming back once it was released. “But if I worked here, I’d try to pay more attention in the future. An incident like that with a health inspector around can put an end to the cleanest of businesses.”

They all mouthed something, finding themselves at a loss of words. She remained untouched, unusually cheerful as she took hold of his arm and all of the bags, proving she could carry them with just one hand.

“Shall we go, dear?”

“Um… yes. Yes, let’s go.”

“Good morning, ladies. Keep having fun.”

This time, they remained silent, maybe for hours after they were gone.

Forty years of family business and one single cockroach.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where they both need therapy. Warning for past psychological abuse and very doubious consent, everything years ago and not by anyone we're rooting for. Just a couple of sentences, but be careful. And let me know if you need any other warning for this or another chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fast again? Are you dying, gurl? Yes, I'm dying. I'm dying for these bitches to work out their issues and fuck. Remember that time Neil Gaiman thought "wouldn't it be cool that the nanny and the gardener were Crowley and Aziraphale?" and I decided to build whole personalities and backstories around these characters who don't even exist in canon? Yeah, can't believe it, either. Enjoy! (not as well-written as the previous one, but I'm tired lol)

“You’re awfully quiet,” Nanny Ashtoreth commented, examining a rose with surprising delicacy.

Francis stopped trimming the bush nearby —or gently murdering it, in other words— and looked at her.

“I’m not as articulate as you, Nanny. You know it’s a bit… harder for me.”

She nodded, unsure, her hands still on the flower’s petals, searching for dark spots.

“Well, I know that, but our plants have ceased to long for the sweet embrace of death. I thought you’d find that exciting.”

He sighed.

“It does make me happy that they’re feeling better…”

“What’s the matter, Francis?” She turned to him, only her head. “I hope this sudden lack of enthusiasm isn’t motivated by what happened at the grocery store.”

Francis didn’t say anything.

“You heard them, didn’t you?”

He shook his head, forcing the tears back before they could even start falling.

“Not exactly, but… you did. I know you did. And I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be. You weren’t the one saying those things.”

“But I’m the reason why they were saying them. They never talked about you like that before.”

“Who knows? Perhaps they did and were better at hiding it.”

“Sure thing,” he huffed a laugh, not bitter yet even less sweet. “Doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Francis—”

He felt the ghost of her hand approaching his shoulder and took a step to the left, avoiding the contact. He didn’t need her compassion. He should be the one trying to make her feel better.

“Francis, I was by no means mortified by their commentaries, if that’s what upsets you. But I believe you should stop getting upset in my name each time your feelings are hurt.”

“It’s not about my feelings!” he sobbed. “It’s about _you_.”

“I already made it clear that I’m indifferent to anyone’s opinion.”

“That’s not how it works. That’s not how this town works. They… they liked you. A few hours ago they liked you. You gave them help and gifts and they don’t care anymore. I’m used to not being liked, but you… you deserve better. I’m not worth the—”

“And who are you to choose for me?”

Francis looked at her. She wasn’t angry, she didn’t even raise her voice, but none of those signals reached his mind. The only thing he knew was that he had disappointed her.

“You think I’ve never been unlikeable in my whole life?”

“That’s not what I… I mean, who could not like you? You’re practically perfect in every way.”

It was her turn to puff a cynical chuckled. Again, not against him, not by his side either.

“Want to know who was the first person to tell me they didn’t like me?”

He blinked, holding his breath without intending to. Even though Nanny Ashtoreth remained serious and composed, there was a shadow of weakness in the back of her act.

“My mother.”

The revelation was released in such an as-a-matter-of-fact way it almost broke his heart. She shrugged, belittling it.

“No matter what I did, it was never enough. Soon I found I didn’t want to do anything to be enough, but she didn’t give up. Too tall for a girl. Features too sharp, shoulders too broad, breasts too small, lips too thin. It was all wrong. I’d never find a husband, let alone have children. Men didn’t like women who talked back as often as I did.”

“Oh, dear…”

“I suppose that’s why I always wanted to be a nanny. Nannies are… suspended in time. Not stuck, just above it. The children grow up, find husbands and wives, have children of their own; nannies… just move on to the next child. They’re not supposed to be wives or mothers, nobody expects anything else than what they are. And they’re always heard. They’re the ones people won’t talk back to.”

Francis failed to find the words to say, so she kept talking, her attention returning to the rose between her fingers.

“Have I ever told you about my first time?”

He gulped.

“H-having… sex?”

“Yes, darling, having sex.” The tedium and tender amusement were palpable in her tone, but she didn’t stop to make fun of him, luckily. “It was my very first boss, one day the mother and the little girls were out to buy some school supplies, I believe. Never knew why she didn’t ask me to go with them.” A pause. “He had me right there, on the kitchen floor.”

The sentence fell flat on the ground and got lost between the orange leaves. Francis cleared his throat.

“Did you… did you want him?”

The corner of her mouth raised in that way adults’ mouths do when a kid says something silly they know they shouldn’t laugh at.

“I didn’t say no, if that’s what you’re asking,” she shrugged once more. “Wouldn’t have dare. My mother always said: _if the chance is given, take it, you might not get another one._ ”

That didn’t sound like a yes…

“ _Worst case scenario, both the wife and you disappear for nine months, she comes back with a baby and you get sent to another family._ What a loving thing to tell your daughter, don’t you think?”

“It’s… it’s terrible…”

She chuckled.

“I regret it now, to be completely honest.” And clicked her tongue. “An absolute brute, that well-respected fellow. He just got up, buttoned up his trousers and said: _hope you’re on the pill, honey…_ ”

“You… you weren’t…”

“I thought I would die a virgin, of course I wasn’t.” Again, no bitterness in her answer. “I’m just that lucky, I guess. That experience taught me that every man with a big name is a waste of time. Only the ones who were in my league ever since that day… and never let them be on top or take too many layers off. Once you’re out of the uniform, they forget you’re a human being who also expected an orgasm. Oh, look at these lilies. Didn’t I tell you how much it’d help to—”

“Is that why you won’t let me undo your hair?” he asked without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

Francis choke on his own spit and tried to make it pass as him clearing his throat. It was the time to be brave.

“I said… is that why you don’t want me to undo your hair? ’Cause it makes you uncomfortable? ’Cause it makes you vuln—…”

“Boundaries,” she reminded him, focusing on the lilies. “And a bit of water, I think. Be a dear and finish that bush while I go get some.”

“Okay…” he accepted. “I’m very sorry you were mistreated, though. But you don’t have to look or act a certain way for me to appreciate you. I would have… even before you… I would have liked that you, as well.”

Another laugh behind him. Oh, how wonderful felt to make her laugh, beyond whatever caused it.

“Don’t get carried away, dear. Not even I really liked her.”

Despite the joke, he could tell that was just what she needed to hear.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth leaves... and then comes back, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad, bad chapter. I know. Honestly, I don't have the energy to read it twice. Hope it turned out better than I think it is. And hope you can enjoy it no matter how poorly written it is. I appreciate your comments so much some of them had made me cry <3

“Not this week,” was Nanny Ashtoreth’s reply to a plan Francis forgot as soon as she rejected it. “I need to return to London.”

They had been in the garden since midday, sitting under a tree; his head on her lap, her hand on his hair, her eyes on a book. The only noises were produced by occasional birds, the bees buzzing and the breeze rushing through the grass. In such quietness, his gasp must have been offensively obvious.

“Oh?” he tried to pass it as innocent surprise, not paralyzing fear.

“I’d rather not, trust me, but I need to fix a few things if I’m planning to move here for good.”

“M-move here for good?”

“Unless you don’t want that.”

“No, of course I want that!” he said immediately, attempting to sit up just to be pushed back by her into his original position. “I… I’d be very glad if you did that. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Excellent. Then I have to visit London one last time and take care of all the papers and the rest of my belongings.”

“Only that?”

“Only that,” she reassured him, squeezing his hand.

That should have been it. Or at least it would have been, if he wasn’t so immature and possessive. The truth is, from the moment she announced her trip, all Francis could think about was her abandoning him. Then he would feel bad for considering her capable of such thing. And then concluding that even if that wasn’t her original intention, a lot could change in a week.

London was a charming city. Francis knew that from when he used to live there, many years ago, before his retirement. Although he didn’t miss it in the slightest and found comfort in life in the countryside, Nanny Ashtoreth was a different person. She had style, she had flair, she was there… at the moment. Maybe she’d rather not come back once she tasted the classiness of city living once again. That possibility alone was enough to give him nightmares.

Still, he took it like a champion. The rest of the week was full of routine and silence and cosiness and all those boring things she probably hated in secret. They took care of their garden, both the flowers and the vegetables, and watched old movies on telly. Nothing seemed to change… till Monday morning.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” he suggested, pretending it was her what concerned him.

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” she repeated for perhaps the twentieth time, putting her small bag on the backseat of the car. “It’s going to be quite tedious, everything I have to do. And you’d help me more by staying here and keeping the house habitable in my absence.”

“But—“

“Francis.” She stopped her packing and looked at him. “If you’re worried about me leaving, just say so.”

How could she read him so well?

“I know it’s silly.” He lowered his gaze. “But I can’t help to think… It doesn’t… I’m scared you might…”

“Give me a second, darling.”

She turned back to the car and searched for something inside it. Once she found it, she asked Francis to open his hands and deposited the object on them with deep care. He stared in shock.

“Your… your umbrella?”

“Be careful with it, dear, it’s delicate.”

Francis blinked.

“I don’t… I don’t understand…”

Nanny Ashtoreth smiled.

“That way you’ll be certain I have to come back.” And kissed his forehead. “I need to go now, or else it’ll take me one more day.”

“W-we can’t have that.”

“Of course not.” She walked around the car and opened the door. “Take care, sweetheart. And remember, habitable conditions.”

He nodded solemnly. Now he knew she wouldn’t leave him.

* * *

The week passed slow and melancholic. Even though Nanny Ashtoreth’s strict indications of how to housekeep —as if there wasn’t a time before she arrived when he was on his own— had him busy enough not to think a lot, there was always an hour, a minute, a second of crushing loneliness.

It was almost funny. He obviously had wished for a partner in different moments of his life, but with decades he reached a mental place when he just didn’t care that much anymore. He could easily live a fulfilling life with his plants and little porcelain figures —how heart-breaking it was to find out they weren’t clean only when a stranger pointed it out—, enjoying warm just-made bread and trying to bake it himself once in a while.

At some point, he decided lovers in general and women in particular weren’t something he could aspire to have. It felt like finally coming to a realization he should have acknowledged when he was younger, not in his fifties. Now, looking at ladies in the most innocent and romantic of ways seemed dirty, disrespectful, no matter how platonic and well-hidden were his thoughts. If they knew he wanted to take their hands or put daisies behind their ears, they’d be disgusted.

Going from that to missing the most beautiful woman he had ever met was a huge, ridiculous change, that made him want to both cry and laugh at himself.

Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t his wife. Not even his girlfriend. She was just a lovely lady whose company he appreciated and whose orders he enjoyed obeying. If his mother heard about the kind of relationship he was currently in and how much he suffered at the lightest sign of it ending… Oh, every possible excuse would be worse than the truth…

The umbrella was a consolation. When it all became too much, he would examine it for hours, making sure it was just as perfect as it was when she gave it to him, careful and patient. It also was the only proof she left of her existence and how relieving it was to know she was real, even if she concluded that she didn’t care for the umbrella that much and never came back.

But she would. She would. Of course she would. He repeated those words to himself till his mind started playing them automatically every time his thoughts went quiet. Nanny Ashtoreth would come back.

However, the hardest part of it was the town’s reaction. He could almost hear them when he walked down the street, even if they didn’t dare to speak.

_She must have left him…_

The weight of their glances was so heavy he couldn’t do as much as find peace and some sort of joy in the future. In the day she’d return and they’d all have to recognize, at least for themselves, that they were wrong about them. He still tried, though, taking her umbrella with him even in sunny days as both reminder and evidence that the day would come.

He was focusing on that idea, that day, when Carl, the town’s favourite lawyer pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Oi, Brother Francis, is that you? Nice umbrella.”

“It belongs to Ms. Ashtoreth,” he replied, as polite as he could manage.

“Ah, the nanny, huh?”

“Yes.”

Francis didn’t like Carl, and that was to say a lot —Francis liked a lot of people, if anything felt a bit unlikeable for some of them—. Most villagers didn’t really like him, to be fair, though they owed him some respect due to his profession. He was the kind of person to talk very loudly and get drunk very quickly and talk even louder once he got drunk. He took conversations in his hands like clay and shaped them as he wished, all about him.

Francis considered himself lucky that Carl usually wouldn’t take much interest in talking to him. It was strange how communicative he was being that morning at Main Street.

“You’d like one?” He offered him a cigarette, while trapping one between his teeth.

“I don’t smoke, thank you.”

“Does Ms. Ashtoreth smoke? She seems like the type. Wonder if she’d like my cigars. Got them from Cuba, y’know? Last time I was there, back in summer…”

“So I heard.”

Carl also travelled a lot and was considerably public about it.

“Wonder if she’d like them.”

“I’ll ask her.” He wouldn’t ask her that in a million years.

Carl nodded, hands in pockets, a pleased grin around his now lit cigarette.

“Was that all?”

The taller man jumped —he jumped every time someone spoke to him; the real surprise it might cause him or not irrelevant— and smiled again.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to remind you of the spring festival next weekend at the park. I know you don’t live in town… exactly, I mean, but… Don’t know, maybe you’d like to come? And bring your friend?”

“Well, I’d have to ask her what she thinks, first.”

“Oh, absolutely, do that. I heard you have a veggie garden at home, so… could sell them there, just thinking out loud, y’know?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Hope to see you there!”

Francis watched him leave, still thinking about the cigars, the umbrella and just the way Carl said her name. Would she like to go if he asked her? Would she want to sit with him all day selling vegetables? Would she ever return?

* * *

The morning it happened, the skies were falling down. Rain was so heavy it made it hard to look out the window and thunders were so loud it was hard to hear even what was going on television.

She said four pm. It was almost six. Maybe she took the wise decision of not driving with such a storm. Maybe she took the even wiser decision of staying in London forever.

But no. Of course she wouldn’t. When Francis was ready to go make himself some tea and try to forget about her, the car appeared, bumping on the dirt road and stopping in front of the house.

Quicker than a sigh, he rushed to the door and was received outside by a thunder that forced him to come back and get the umbrella. After that short stop, nothing could stop him as he frantically waddled down the gravel path, avoiding puddles of water that became bigger and bigger with every second.

“Here, here,” he announced, running around the car and keeping the umbrella in place as she stepped out of it. “Let me help you.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, in a tone that made it seem like she was trying to hold back a smile, but couldn’t. She took the umbrella from his hand in a matter of seconds. “Darling, go ahead and help nanny with those boxes, why don’t you…”

“O-of course, allow me to…”

With several reorganizations, he managed to take the packages from the backseat and close the door, offering his arm as they walked to the house. Once inside, she thanked him and hang her coat, inspecting the place.

“Well, you did keep it habitable in my absence, congratulations.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he beamed, proud yet humble. “And I’m glad you’re back.”

She turned to him, suddenly serious. For an instant, Francis feared that he had offended her somehow. After all, the habit of living with her started fading a few days since she was gone. There were so many wrong things to say, to do… Oh, the disappointed he must have…

“Francis,” she said, “can I try something new? Do I have you consent?”

He nodded, breathless. _Yes, for anything_ , he should have said, but even when he loved her so much, it would have been a lie and she hated lies. So he preferred to just nod, trusting her to know where the boundaries were. It didn’t matter that him, himself, didn’t know.

“Alright…”

Resting her hands on both his shoulders, she leaned forward and kissed him. On the lips, this time.

Francis panicked for a second. Then he closed his eyes and accepted it. Accepted the warmth of her flesh, the pressure of her fingers, the taste and texture of her lipstick. It was his first kiss. A first kiss he thought would never come, just like she thought she’d never been made love to. The difference was that, unlike her first time, this was everything he could have ever dreamed of. And maybe because of that first time, that was what she intended it to be with such determination.

“It’s good to be back,” she mumbled once they broke apart.

The kiss was short and sweet and almost childish, with the change that she obviously was experienced. She kept it like that for him and he was so grateful. It was, at the end of the day, the kind of first kiss he should have had. That they both should have had.

Even if life denied them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth visit the town festival and she epically destroys a straight white male(tm) in a debate about wether he ever made a woman cum or not. Warning for men being men, but not Francis, because he's baby <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I update often because it generates the illusion that there are more than four people reading and reviewing, and I'm honestly living for them. Thanks for ignoring my "had" problem and how poorly written this chapter is.

“Of course, why not? Sounds like an interesting plan.”

“You really think so?”

Nanny Ashtoreth stared at him behind her glasses and Francis felt his cheeks burning. It was a sunny morning with nothing good on telly —as usually— and they had spent it solving crosswords puzzles and drinking coffee.

“I just didn’t take you for one for festivals, dear,” he smiled the best he could.

“I’m one for many things.” Her eyes returned to the newspaper and Francis thought he might need to apologize, but soon notices that she was smiling and her hand was searching for his. “It’d be a good opportunity to sell our harvest.”

“Yeah, that was what Carl said.”

Carl did say that, didn’t he? What a smart fellow. Francis wondered if Nanny Ashtoreth would consider him a brute. Maybe…

“Who is Carl?” she frowned.

Well, he could ask her thoughts when they finally met.

* * *

Three days later, Saturday came and Nanny Ashtoreth proved to be, in fact, one for festivals. Since the moment they arrived to the park and installed their stand, she managed to speak to virtually everyone, calling them by name and asking them about problems Francis didn’t even know they had. Then, they ran out of vegetables and fruit to sell in less than an hour, showered in congratulations both for the amazing state of the food and her ability to do maths at an almost superhuman speed, while he still was struggling to find the calculator —turns out they forgot it at home—.

Out of business by succeed rather than failure, the rest of the day found them visiting the rest of the stands, trying biscuits and bread, cakes and fruits. The money gotten from their own stand gave them the chance to have practically everything, and even if they didn’t, people would have given them a sample, anyway.

A bit closer to sunset, after she bought him fairy floss but before she bought him a new hat, Francis found himself too tired to keep walking and sat down at the food court zone and she continued to explore the little amount of things that were left to see. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw her running around —her version of running around, at least, that was just going a bit faster than usual— with a troop of children following her, all of them holding sparklers.

They stopped a few meters away from him and she said something the kids considered hilarious —probably terrifying from an adult perspective, but they didn’t know any better and he sort of envied them for it—. A young girl —Ashley, he remembered— asked her to lower herself and whispered something in her ear. Nanny Ashtoreth then looked at him and Francis avoided her gaze like a twelve-year-old.

“Brother Francis, would you like to join us?” she called.

“Oh, I don’t… I’m feeling quite tired, to be… No, thank you, dear.”

She nodded and focused on the kids again. It was clear they had told her to invite him and the thought warmed his heart up in a way that almost made him regret his decision. Then another girl yelled at him:

“She thinks you’re cute!”

Francis’ heart skipped a beat and his eyes went anywhere that wasn’t them with an agility he wished he had for every other aspect of his life. He heard Nanny Ashtoreth shout something in the lines of “I did not say that!” —though not half as mad as she would think— and giggles and even more amused accusations and then they were gone.

* * *

Later that night, when all families had already left and everyone else had a drink in hand, they leaned against a tree and she talked to him about the stars. Everything was perfect, from the soft breeze to the distant sound of music coming from the closest thing to a party that small town had. So perfect he barely found the strength to announce he had to go to the restroom.

But he was quick. He had to be. It was the first night like that he had seen in a long time, perhaps his whole life, and he couldn’t let it go to waste. Suddenly, washing his hands —an habit he developed when their relationship began, since he didn’t care much about such things before her—, he realized that was his very first date. The kind of date people had in films. And maybe when they came home and say goodbye, they would kiss again. Did it work that way for people who already lived together? Would it be too…?

“…But that was when I came back from Cuba,” he heard a voice saying once he was out the restroom, getting closer to their tree. “Ever been to Cuba?”

“Not particularly Cuba, but I’ve visited America once or twice.”

That was…

Francis hid behind the closest wall he could find —the back of an abandoned stand— and paid attention. He knew it was wrong, that he should make his presence obvious like a proper adult, but the thought of Nanny Ashtoreth being annoyed by the interruption hurt too much. He’d rather have her reject him discreetly, perhaps during breakfast next morning, if she was to find someone else more attractive than him.

Carl chuckled. The smell of alcohol was noticeable even from where Francis was standing.

“No, no, honey, I mean Cuba.”

The angle allowed him to see she seemed unimpressed.

“Where do you think it is, genius?”

Carl choked on his own spit —and undoubtedly had some on her, because that also was something he did while drunk—.

“My, you’re a smart girl, aren’t ya?”

“I’m certainly not. It’s been a long time since I was a girl, if you ask me.”

“Couldn’t tell. You’re just so… And you’re very clever, too!”

“Smart and clever? Must be my birthday.”

Francis covered his mouth to prevent a snort from outing him. Women were often too uncomfortable around Carl to confront him like that, and seeing her doing it, cold and unaffected, was a delightful scene. He still wasn’t giving up, though, hand resting on the tree, close to her head, impossibly close. Disgustingly tall, as well.

“You like my car?” he pointed at the car park. “It’s the red convertible. A 1957 Chevy in perfect conditions. They just don’t make it like that anymore.”

“Oh, the fifties did have good cars,” she agreed.

“Do you own a car, too?”

“Oh, yes. Not too far from yours, actually. The black Bentley.”

Carl took a few seconds before whistling like the classless sad man he was. Francis wasn’t too classy himself, but even he knew better. Must had caught him off guard.

“They do say cars and owners look alike…”

“Who said that?”

Carl gulped and his free hand was already reaching inside his pocket. The damn Cuban cigars, for sure.

“Shakespeare, probably…”

She didn’t laugh.

“Only good thing my mother left me, to be frank.”

Another chuckled. And Francis considered himself awkward…

“Did you have to kill her for it?”

What kind of…

“Lung cancer, actually.”

The hand left his pocket as empty as it went in. Definitely not the smoking type, Ms. Ashtoreth. Francis felt bad for giggling.

“Alright, we’re adults, let’s be honest,” Carl decided, invading her space even more, if that was possible at this point. More _let’s be quick_ than anything, if you asked Francis. “What’s going on between that Francis bloke and you?”

Nanny Ashtoreth deadpanned him.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is…” He looked for the right words. “Oh, don’t give me that look, honey. I’m a gentleman. I really am. And I do like Brother Francis, really! He looks like a… decent man.”

“That’s because he is.”

“I don’t doubt it, I don’t. But that… that can’t be enough, honey. You know it can’t. Not for you.”

“Do you think I don’t deserve him?”

Carl’s face went completely white. Then red. Panic was growing inside him, just like it did for Carmen and Jenny at the grocery store not that long ago.

“That’s not what… No, honey, no, listen to me. You… you are a lady. A real one, not like… not like all these girls. You come from the city, you have culture and taste and… Well, you’re not what most people would call bad-looking.”

“How charming.”

“All I’m saying is… do you really like that man? Honestly?”

Francis’ heart did that thing that made him afraid of having an attack once more.

“My feelings for Brother Francis or anyone else are none of your concern.”

Carl was sweating now, but Francis couldn’t be amused by it because he was beginning to sweat, too.

_Please say you do, please say you do…_

“Come on, just answer the question. I won’t tell anyone. Do you really like him? Do you… Would you actually sleep with him? ’Cause if you did, let me tell ya…”

That was all. Exasperated as she was and despite all her attempts to remain civil, she grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the tree, raising his feet a few inches from the ground and looking right into his eyes.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse of a heterosexual man, I don’t only like Brother Francis; I, in fact, consider him to be the sexiest creature I have ever seen. And if the day where I get to sleep with him ever comes, I can guarantee you he’ll make me feel much better than you’ve ever made your orgasm-faking ex-wife feel. That’s right, _honey_ , I know about Jessica, and guess what? She was sleeping with her yoga instructor all along. It didn’t start on Christmas Eve. Ever wondered why little Jimmy has green eyes? That’s why, you’re welcome.”

She put him down, his breath quickened by paralyzing shock. Already relaxed, Nanny Ashtoreth fixed her clothes and gave him one last defying look.

“Next time you call me a lady just to take me to bed, be a fucking gentleman.”

And then looked around the tree, directly at Francis.

“Darling, let’s go home. We’re already late for Golden Girls.”

Gulping, Brother Francis rushed to her and intertwined their arms. She had the wonderful cynicism of giving Carl a polite nod as they walked away.

* * *

Ten minutes later, already inside the Bentley, they didn’t seem to be going anywhere. They just sat there, him staring in worried anticipation as she held to the wheel till her knuckles went white. A small explosion happened a couple cars away and Francis noticed there was smoke coming from under the 1957 Chevy’s hood.

“Nanny?” he called softly, voice as shaky as jelly.

She took a deep breath and sighed.

“I am very sorry, dear, but I can’t deal with your self-esteem issues right now. Could we please discuss this in the—”

“Just wanted to know if you were okay.”

How crushing it was to see her genuinely surprised by his concern, as if no one had ever cared at all…

He gulped when an arm closed around him and pulled him closer to her, making his head rest on her shoulder.

“I will be,” she promised. “I just find men rather frustrating sometimes.”

Francis gave her a gentle smile.

“Not me, I hope.”

“Not you.”

She kissed his forehead and started the engine, now in an emotional state that would allow her to drive safely. A couple of minutes passed before she broke the silence again; this time, with an almost undistinguishable whisper.

“Never you.”

With his cheek pressed against the side of her arm and a grin on his face, he fell in a pleasant slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos and comment if you want Nanny Ashtoreth to pin you up against a tree and call you out on your bullshit.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one when she lets him touch her hair and they finally talk about horniness. Protect Francis at all costs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most important chapter to date? Yes. The most poorly written one? Also yes. Hope you like it, anyway. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the love y'all show for this fic. I know I make a lot of jokes and make fun of y'all for liking my writing, but I truly love your comments and the fact you care for something I put so much effort on (despite what it might seem). I might be a low-self-esteem bitch, but I have feelings and y'all give me a lot of those with every review and kudos <3

A knock on his bedroom’s door woke him up. By the way the sunlight came through the windows, it was safe to assume the day was just dawning. He couldn’t remember the last time he woke up so early and, sleepy as he was, his mind filled with terrible possibilities, potential emergencies that required his immediate attention.

Quicker than he should, he stepped out of bed and put on his robe, bumping his toes against the bed leg in his rush. His eyes refused to stay open, so he wasn’t even able to see Nanny Ashtoreth once he opened the door, but she must had seen the horror in his expression, because the first thing she did was telling him it was nothing.

“Just come with me.”

Faster than he could answer, she took his hand and pulled him down the hall, till they went through a door that he figured, should be her bedroom. She told him to stay right where he was. The noise of a chair being moved. A sudden artificial light hitting him right on the face.

Francis rubbed his eyes, trying to get used to it, and then discovered it was the lights of her dressing table. He was about to ask what was it all about when his gaze caught something even more shocking. Sitting right in front of the table, naked eyes meeting his through the mirror, was Nanny Ashtoreth. But the really confusing thing was… she wasn’t wearing her everyday clothes, not even her glasses. Instead, she was wearing her nightgown and hair-rollers. She was letting him see how she looked when she just woke up, those mysterious hours she reserved to be as human as him.

“Do you know how to unroll hair curlers?” she asked, so casual it almost made him fall.

Francis choked.

“I’m… I’m afraid not… I don’t, dear.”

“Sit down, then. I’ll show you.”

He obeyed, finding out the noise he heard was her pulling a chair for him to sit, right beside her, though a little behind. Despite how shaky his hands were, she held them with reassuring confidence and took them to one of the rollers are the back.

“You always want to start from the back,” she explained. “It’s easier that way and you don’t risk ruining the work you already did.”

“I see…”

Gently, she guided him through the process to the point one could argue it was him doing the job. He was speechless, heart pounding in his chest. Was this really happening? Did she really trust him that much?

_Never let them take too many layers off…_

_Once you’re out of the uniform, they forget you’re a human being…_

Did she consider him different? Was what they had different from everything before they met? He knew it was for him. After all, he never caught the interest of a woman before. But Nanny Ashtoreth was irresistible and popular. She had had countless lovers over the years… and she still had a first time for him… The thought was almost enough to make him cry.

“You say you do this every morning?” he couldn’t help but ask when they were half-way through the process.

“It’s usually a bit faster. Pretty much internalized by now. Careful there…”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, darling.”

“Don’t know how you deal with this sort of things every day. Must be difficult, to be a woman.”

She shrugged.

“Easiest thing in the world when you learn how to use it in your favour.”

That was a lie and they both knew it. Not in the way most lies were: desperate and down-right untrue; but a way to preserve a character she had to play in order to not lose herself in their current intimacy. Francis, not being the brightest man alive in the emotional front, understood this and wouldn’t dare to demand for anything else. If it was what it took for her to be comfortable, he would buy that image of calculating temptress who learned how to have her way.

It certainly hurt much less than thinking about that girl, having her skirts pulled up by her first boss on the kitchen floor while the family was away, not even getting the chance to say no.

“Now you brush it,” she said, handing him a wood brush once the last roller was on the dressing table. “But not too much, or we’ll lose the curls.”

He nodded and did as he was told. She had the softest hair he had ever felt, although he didn’t touch other people’s hair that often. In fact, he never was this close to a woman —and her hair— before.

Once he finished, he gave her the brush back and she put it next to the rollers.

“Thank you, darling,” she smiled at him, already getting up to walk him to the door.

“No,” he replied, building up enough courage to wrap his hands around hers, “thank you.”

“What for?” she chuckled.

Francis wasn’t laughing, but his smile didn’t fade either.

“I… Eh, I know it’s hard for you. I mean, all this. I’m not very good with words, but I know it’s not easy to… Well, you didn’t want me to touch your hair a few weeks ago. And how you’re letting me… see you like this, I mean… I want you to know I’m really grateful for that. And I’m really glad you trust me to—”

“Oh, of course I trust you, you silly man,” she dismissed in an amused tone, with no intention of being mean. “Honestly, how could I change my whole life for someone I didn’t… Are you crying?”

Wiping his sudden tears with the sleeve of his pyjamas, Francis shook his head. He truly was crying, even if he hadn’t realize till she pointed it out.

“Come here,” Nanny Ashtoreth encouraged, moving them both to the foot of the bed, a safe distance between them that still allowed her to rub his arm. “What’s wrong? What—”

Francis sniffed.

“It’s just… You want us to… make love…”

“Make love,” she huffed before she could stop herself, but remained compassionate. “Well, but I made no secret of that. I’ve felt that way ever since I got here.”

“I know!” he sobbed.

“So why is it a problem now?”

She considered it for a few seconds and didn’t take much longer to recognize she knew the answer. Once she figured it out, she held his hands and gave him a serious look, the kind that says ‘I’m about to say something important.’

“Did you hear me talking with that awful man last night?”

He nodded and a sigh left her lips.

“I truly didn’t notice you were there until the last moment. If I had known—”

“Don’t apologize…”

“I didn’t mean to disrespect you or make you uncomfortable. I merely lost control of myself for an instant and forgot I might cause you harm or humiliation with my—”

“No, dear, really, don’t apologize. Please.”

“But it was hardly appropriate for me to say such things to a stranger. That—”

“It’s not a problem that you told him,” he finally confessed. “It’s… It’s more that you’re still feeling it. It’s more that you… that you still want me.”

“Why should have I stopped wanting you? Did you think I’d grow out of it?”

“To be honest… yes. But that’s not even the actual problem. The problem is I…” He lowered his voice, words a rushed mumble, “I think I feel the same way about you.”

“Oh.”

He couldn’t avoid start crying again, his breath quickening and making it hard for air to reach his lungs. With supreme care and patience, she repeated soft orders of calming down and waited for him to do so.

“I want us to make love, too,” he finished, eyes fixed on the floor.

Nanny Ashtoreth made him look back at her with a gentle hand on his chin, which went away as soon as it fulfilled its purpose.

“It’s okay to want things,” she told him. “But wanting them isn’t enough. You must want to do them, as well.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not necessarily. Your body might want things that your mind doesn’t. Sometimes a part of your mind wants something and another is opposed to it. In those cases, you should always listen to the part of you that’s telling you not to do it, in my opinion.”

“But what if… what if there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t want it? What if… What if I’m actually _dying_ to do it but I don’t know how it works or… What if I don’t know what I want at all?”

“But darling, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say. If you don’t feel ready—”

“What if I never feel ready?”

She closed her mouth.

“Then we’ll never do anything.”

“That’s unfair.”

“It doesn’t have to be fair. Sex is not about fairness.”

“Oh, God, we’re talking about sex…” he exhaled, hiding his face on his hands.

“Perhaps we should,” she insisted, immovable. “You don’t seem to understand the slightest thing about it, and I don’t mean it as an insult. I’m… quite frankly concerned. I don’t know where we’re standing anymore.”

Francis felt the lashes of panic hitting him on the back, forcing him to sit up and drop the breakdown in a way that could almost make it seem like he was faking it. But no, it was real… as real as the thought of losing her if he didn’t learn to express something he couldn’t even admit to himself.

“N-no, no, dear, I’m sorry… I’m just… Please, let’s just talk. I can talk about it, I swear. I can learn, but you need to show me how… I’ve never… I want to be better, but I don’t know how to—”

“Alright, breathe. Breathe, Francis.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s do that. Let’s talk about it, okay? I promise I’m not leaving over this.”

That last sentenced made him sigh in relief. He wasn’t losing her, after all. He was just on the verge of losing himself. No big deal.

“Francis, I need you to be honest. I can tell you’re very confused and I can try to help you, but at the end of the day only you can figure yourself out. You must be open about your feelings.”

“I… I will be. I just have to… I don’t—”

“Well, let’s start from the beginning,” she said as if she was thinking out loud. “The day I arrived we had this conversation and you said you weren’t comfortable with penetrative sex. Is that still the case?”

“It’s not that I don’t—”

“Just answer the question, please.”

“Yes,” he exhaled, lowering his head.

“You also said you enjoyed the idea of manual and oral stimulation, but you weren’t quite ready yet. Have your feelings changed?”

“I… I’m not sure…”

“But you do want our relationship to move to more intimate grounds, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

She was about to ask her next question, doing her best to unravel the tangle of contradictory emotions, when it hit him. The revelation, still too confusing to be called an epiphany, yet clear enough to see through. Now, it was him who knew what he wanted… more or less.

“I can’t wrap my mind around it. It’s like… I want everything and nothing at the same time. The boundaries are all blurred and all I know is I want to… to set them as we go.”

Nanny Ashtoreth nodded.

“Set them as we go…” she repeated. “Not a wise strategy, in my experience.”

“But it might be different with us. You… you listen to me. We listen to each other. Like... Just like when you came back from London and kissed me. We didn’t have to negotiate that. You just asked me if I wanted it and then did it.”

Another nod.

“So what you’re saying is… we could try that for everything else. Me asking you if you’re comfortable with something and doing it with your immediate consent.”

“Maybe not asking…” he muttered.

“What?”

“I-I mean, you don’t need to ask all the time, as long as it’s not a… big step. You can just go ahead and I can say no if I don’t want it. That’d make it a lot easier. For me, I mean. If you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I… That wouldn’t be a lot of trouble. But you’d have to actually communicate. I can’t be guessing all the time. If I ever take it too far, I want you to tell me immediately.”

“Sounds like a great plan… It… We’d just have to do it… gradually? I wouldn’t want to rush into anything. I’m not ready to take too many clothes off. But just…”

“Small things.”

“Yes, small things. I could… I’d be okay with that.”

“Well,” She got up, “I’m glad we had this conversation.”

Francis smiled.

“I’m glad, too.”

“Now get out so I can change or we’ll skip ten steps in less than two minutes.”

“O-of course, sorry!”

He rushed out the room and into his own. Back in bed, he found he couldn’t fall asleep again, even when he had thirty more minutes of rest. He was too excited.

Nanny Ashtoreth and him would share a more sexual relationship and, for once in his life, the thought didn’t scare him at all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth is horny on main and Francis is that follower who followed you for a fandom but supports you reblogging porn gifs in the middle of the night.
> 
> This summary is terrible and does no justice to the overwhelming depth of this chapter and what it means to their evolution as characters, but it's three am, cut me some slack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally overcoming my paralyzing anxiety to reply to comments and like hell I'll use it to inflate this fic only five people like's statics.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked once he showed up at the kitchen’s door, as if he hadn’t been crying at her bedroom just an hour ago.

Francis nodded with a drowsy smile. There was something strangely soothing about seeing her in her habitual clothes, serving pancakes with the habitual naturalness, not addressing what happened and giving him that delightful taste of normality. For a moment he feared their last conversation might have caused a fracture in their everyday life and they wouldn’t know how to continue after it. It wasn’t impossible and he was so glad his fears stayed in that dark corner of his imagination, never bubbling up to the surface.

Now with the pancakes on the table, steaming and irresistible, she rushed to give him a proper greeting, resting her hands on his shoulders with just enough strength to bring him closer and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

It certainly was more… mature than the first one. Not open-mouthed or anything that might make him especially anxious, but intense, with her lips sliding against his closed ones, wet and dry at the same time, gentle and deliberate.

“Kiss me back?” she requested softly when they broke a part, just an inch away, her hand on his chin.

Francis wanted to say no… or yes. Well, to be frank, he wanted to say yes and the thought alone made him feel like the most selfish person in the world. A gentleman would reject her with taste and sensibility, apologizing for it but reassuring her she deserved so much better, that she shouldn’t waste her kisses with someone like him. The thing was… Francis was tired of being a gentleman in all the wrong situations and still being called a beast by people who didn’t even know him based on appearance.

So he nodded again and kissed her back, a respectful hand on her waist, a warm tongue caressing his lower lip.

“Alright, now let’s have some breakfast,” she decided after a moment, pushing him back and guiding him to the table.

As they sat on their respective chairs —a little closer than usual— and started eating, he became painfully aware of how much things were changing. It wasn’t something obvious or something concrete that she was doing, but a subtext, a subtle sensuality in every movement.

No, wait, _sensual_ was the standard, the rules she always had played the game with whether she knew it or not. The actual change, elusive as it was, was downright sexual. And Francis could almost assure it wasn’t on purpose. She might not even notice she was behaving this way, leaning slightly closer when she spoke to him, mouthing the words with more intention as she spoke, hand brushing his with more frequency when she passed him the whipped cream or chocolate syrup.

One thing was for sure: that morning, Nanny Ashtoreth was beginning to present herself as a sexual being. If she meant it or not… that was irrelevant.

She probably didn’t. In fact, judging by how vague and natural it came, Francis would dare to assume she had been holding herself back. This wasn’t supposed to be an act, but a revelation, like a succubus finally spreading its wings and baring its teeth —he immediately felt bad for making that comparison—. This was her true essence, the one she repressed for months in order to not make him uncomfortable.

She briefly touched his arm while laughing at a joke that he didn’t plan to be a joke and it was such a simple gesture… She looked so relaxed and liberated…

He couldn’t help but laugh, too, although not for the same reasons. He chuckled because he was as glad as he was scared that she could be herself, that they could be themselves around each other. Well, only she could, for now. But how wonderful it proved to be to see her let go, unleash the true power of her presence, the inherent charm of it that she was forced to suppress for so long.

She did say it once, didn’t she? Nannies were suspended in time and “above it” was a nicer way to put it. They weren’t expected to get married or have children of their own, which —in most cases— involved some sort of sexual charge. They weren’t supposed to be looked at as something sexual, even if that made them a fetish for some people. And it must have been such a safe bet for that girl who was too tall, too defiant, too _much_ , with broad shoulders and thin lips.

Wasn’t that the reason why he became a gardener instead of getting a 9-to-5 job that would allow him to be a man if he wanted to? If he could…?

But not anymore. They were both retired now. They were no longer suspended in time, nor above it, nor did they want to be.

And she… she had built her entire life around being heard, but not seen. Not looked at. And today it was like she —and her whole body, without her permission— could finally say _look at me. I’m here. I’m a woman and I want to be…_

“I want you to take care of the garden today,” was what she said out loud, cleaning the corner of her mouth with a tissue and leaving her chair, monotone and authoritative as usual. “On your own.”

“If… if you really want me to,” Francis stuttered, embarrassed by the train his thoughts had taken before she interrupted them. “I’m afraid I’m not as good as you, but—”

“I think you’ve learned enough. I’ll be very proud if you manage to do it and I might reward you.”

_Reward him…_

Francis took his own empty plate and followed her to the sink, already starting to help, as if the word had awaken an urge inside him.

“R-reward?”

“If you want,” she shrugged.

“What…” He cleared his throat. “What would it be?”

“I don’t know. What would you like?”

Oh, no, he could feel himself blushing. His cheeks were on fire. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and if he pushed too much or didn’t push enough…

“A kiss, maybe?” he offered.

Nanny Ashtoreth considered it, hand in chin, and then shook her head.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. If you don’t deliver I won’t be able to kiss you in a while…”

Francis’ head was light enough to fly through the ceiling at this point.

“What about a belly rub?” she suggested at last. The corner of her lips raised in a little smile. “I’ll make it special.”

He didn’t remember anything about the rest of the conversation but he did recall spending the afternoon working on the garden, a few more hours than the activity would typically require.

Perhaps it had something to do with him passing out in-between.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis discovers how to get his navel fucked in a God-honoring way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was was was. Was? Was, was, was. Was, was. Was! Was... Was, was. Was... *Had*
> 
> There. That's my writing style. Please don't call me out on it, I already know.

By the end of the day, everything seemed to be upside down. After spending the whole afternoon insanely nervous about what would happen, the last minutes before it were filled with optimistic eagerness. It all felt like too much wait, since they had to drink tea and she expected him to shower first.

But just a second from losing it, the time arrived.

The curtains were closed. His room didn’t have many windows and even if it did, they all faced a closed garden and they were too far from town to be seen. He still appreciated the privacy, though. The only light came from the lamp on the bedside table, tinting the air with a soft yellow clarity that reminded him of old films.

Nanny Ashtoreth was already there.

“Come sit with me, darling,” she said, patting the spot by her side.

Francis obeyed and shuddered when she gently took his hand, making more room for him and guiding him even though he didn’t need any help. He left out a satisfied groan as she fixed the pillows under his head, putting him in a semi-lied down position.

“Are we comfortable?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, eyelids heavy. He’d never dare to tell her such a silly thought, but he loved how she used the ‘we’ when his individual comfort was the only thing she wanted information about.

“Part your legs a bit, if you don’t mind.”

He did as he was told without analysing it too much and his eyes shot open when he felt her shift, taking the place she asked him to create with no further explanation. Francis remained frozen as Nanny Ashtoreth slid herself up against his body in a smooth move till they were face-to-face, noses almost touching.

“Can I stay here?” she smirked, perhaps a bit more tender than she intended.

He gulped.

“If… if you want…”

“What do you want?”

He looked down at their pressing bodies, painfully separated by the ridiculous amount of clothes they both wore, and then back to her eyes, warm and irresistible.

“Whatever you want,” he left out in a squeaky whisper.

Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled and allowed her hands to travel up his hips and under the smock, gradually pulling it up.

“Can we take this off?”

“Uh… uh-huh…”

“Well, I normally wouldn’t allow mumbling, but I’ll let you get away with it this time.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“Shhh…” She pressed a finger against his lips. “I said it was okay. Now sit up so I can get this thing out of the way.”

Francis did it and felt absurdly exposed without that single garment, even if he still was wearing the rest of his clothes. However, he couldn’t manage to get too self-conscious about it, because the next thing Nanny Ashtoreth did was removing her own coat and necktie.

“It’s getting quite warm for this kind of clothes, don’t you think?” she grinned down at him, loosening the first buttons of her blouse.

Francis was about to fail her by mumbling his answer again, but he didn’t make in on time before her mouth reached his, painted lips caressing his like hours ago, now free from the heaviness of his inexperience. That would have been enough to force a moan out of him and still she decided to cup his hardened belly with her hands, their heat leaking through his shirt as if it was nothing.

Overwhelmed by her attentions, he tried to respond, fingers looking for anywhere it was acceptable to touch, not sure of what to do. She didn’t allow it, grabbing his wrists and pushing them to the bed.

“Hands on the mattress,” she warned, though she didn’t sound angry. “This is not about me.”

Oh, but he wanted it to be about her, too. He wanted to reach out and caress, returning the light touches he was getting somehow, in a way she would enjoy.

At some point —that could have been seconds or hours later— she pulled his shirt out of his trousers and opened the lower buttons, raising his undershirt in the process for better access. The skin-on-skin contact could have sent him to the hospital if he hadn’t be mentally prepared —more or less—. Her breath was under his chin now.

“You smell good,” she praised, nuzzling her nose against his jawline. “Did you use my soap?”

Francis stiffened. He… he might had. Their soaps were extremely similar —beige and round, not too big— and her perfume was usually too strong to distinguish the fragrance of the one she used. It wasn’t that hard to get confused.

“I’m—” he attempted to apologize, hoping his mistake wouldn’t disgust her or kill the mood.

“Shhh,” she silenced him once more, moving to his ear and gently putting her lips around the lobe, nibbling without teeth. “I like it.”

Wrapping her arm around his shoulders, she went back to his mouth, using the smallest amount of tongue possible, more soothing than intrusive, while rubbing wide circles over the surface of his abdomen.

Francis couldn’t help but stare in complete awe that he was laying with a beautiful woman who seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. It was also the first time he saw this much of her and of course his eyes would forget all about social rules under these circumstances. He blushed when she caught him staring at her cleavage.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, index and middle finger simulating legs walking up to his navel. “You can stare if you wish.”

But his shame took over and the magic was gone, so he didn’t look again and she moved downwards, reclaiming the spot between his thighs to finish the job.

Francis bit his lip as she began to kiss the curve; innocent smooches all over his skin, fingertips massaging his love-handles. There was nowhere to look at but down, at her, completely immerse in what she was doing, occasionally looking back for indications.

At one of those moments, he noticed through the space between her chin and his stomach that his… tent —the most Christian word he could think of to describe it— was pressing right between her breasts. If they were naked…

“Oh, God!” he screamed when her tongue traced a wet path over his happy trail, quick enough to be a product of his imagination.

Aware of the effect it had on him, she repeated the action, a bit slower now.

“Jesus Christ!”

And even slower.

“Mary and Joseph!”

Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled.

“And after all those awful years of Catholic education, this is how I’ll learn every name in that damn book.”

He was about to call her out on the blasphemy when he felt that wicked tongue again, now invading his navel, wiggling inside it in ways that made actual oral sex sound like Sunday school. Francis closed his eyes, teeth clenching and hands grabbing the sheets under him. If he was going to die and ending up in Hell over this, what a way to go…

“Stop that,” she warned, hands on his hips as she pushed them back to the bed.

He didn’t realize, but now that he thought about it, he had spent the last thirty seconds involuntarily thrusting up against her chest, subtle and unconscious enough for no one to notice, except her.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, sincere, but his body didn’t take long before betraying him again and this time she had to be more severe.

“I said stop that, unless you intend me to do something about it.”

Francis stared at her, wide-eyed, willing to make an effort to avoid something beyond his control. He nodded and she imitated him, re-starting her ministrations as if nothing had happened.

“I’m only human,” she added, giving the top of his belly a peck.

They continued like that for centuries, or that was what Francis thought. The sky was now completely dark and he was certain he fell asleep at least once, relaxing as the whole experience was. She wasn’t kissing or licking anymore, but just caressing, absent, cheek pressed against his stomach.

“Well, I think we’re done,” she decided not too later, getting off him and buttoning her blouse up. “Anything else you’d like?”

Francis shook his head, more in shock than truly opposed to keep going. He knew one thing more would break him and he valued the advances they made over any potential step they could take after. She wasn’t going anywhere, after all.

“Oh, but how could I forget?” she suddenly said, making him jump. “Look at this mess.”

Not free of anxiety, Francis looked down and discovered what she meant. His abdomen was covered in purple lipstick.

“Don’t worry, dear, we’ll take care of it. I have just the thing.”

And faster than he could ask, she reached under the bed and revealed a bucket and a sponge.

“It’ll be just a second,” she promised, sitting by his side.

The second half of the event proved to be as pleasing as the first. For an instant, Francis was worried that the water would be cold, but his fears vanished as soon as the warm sponge touched his belly. And the pecks she planted on his cheek as she cleaned him would have been nice enough to distract him if that hadn’t been the case.

“One last thing,” she announced a few minutes later. She then licked her thumb and pressed it against his earlobe, getting rid of one last mark, apparently. “There we are.”

As a last step, she carefully dried him with a soft towel, fluffy and warm, delightful on his skin.

“And we’re finished,” she concluded, fixing his clothes and putting on her coat. “See you at dinner, darling. But don’t be late.”

Taking the bucket and towel with her, she left the room and Francis collapsed against the mountain of pillows.

So this was what happiness felt like…

Now how did one make it go away? Was he supposed to sleep it off or something?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one the author built this whole story around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it makes you feel half the horniness it made me feel, I'll consider this chapter a success. I'm not interested in being civilized or heterosexual anymore.

As weeks went by, Francis came to the realization that things weren’t going back. Sure, he knew it before —since the moment he brought up the love-making—, but he sort of expected routine to pull them away from their advances from time to time. Everyday life simply had to get in the way at some point, right? That’s why so many couples would divorce after a few years of cohabitation.

Oh, no, he was having Christian thoughts again…

Luckily —or unluckily, if he was to judge it based on his previous personal beliefs—, that didn’t happen and the thirtieth day turned out to be as… charged as the first, if not even more.

Belly rubs became a regular thing, as long as he finished his gardening —she didn’t help with that anymore and he was shocked that the plants were still alive— and every time was ridiculously better than the one before. Maybe because he wasn’t so nervous anymore, because he allowed himself to relax a bit or maybe she was just that great. Whatever was the reason —and he doubted it mattered—, no one could deny how increasingly more pleasurable it turned every day.

God, he even dared to touch her a little now. Just an arm around her waist and a hand on her hip as she worked, but it did make a big difference. A few months ago he couldn’t stand the thought of putting his hands on her, partly due to morals and partly due to fear of ruining it. And barely one season later, he could go as far as stare at the lacy edge of her bra —admitting to it when she smirked and asked if he wanted to see more was a whole different story—.

A certain afternoon, Nanny Ashtoreth returned from the store with a bottle of massage oil and they spent hours in his bedroom emptying it. It was the time when he finally let her take his shirt off. She sat on his lap —she had done it before but it was so gradual he couldn’t precise when it started— and kissed him at an agonizing pace as she rubbed the oil into his skin. Francis made sure not to misbehave, keeping his hands to himself —even though she told him he could touch— and not thrusting up —reflex he learned to control over time and with constant threats of stopping everything if he didn’t stop; all in good faith, of course—.

But not all the things they did were sexual. Almost every weekend, they would go out, be it to their secret spot in the forest to have a picnic or visiting a drive-in theatre. Sometimes, they would drive to the beach and although neither of them was willing to take their clothes off in public, they did enjoy several walks through the shore.

They still interacted with the town and everyone seemed far less hostile. Perhaps it had something to do with how the only people who kind of attacked them —Carl and the ladies from the grocery store— would avoid visual contact at all costs. Children, particularly, adored them. And it was a challenge for Francis to understand them, to earn their appreciation —kids were naturally averse to any display of genuine kindness, Nanny Ashtoreth explained once—, but sooner than later they loved him just as much as they loved her.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Ashley whispered one sunny morning, after pulling at his smock to call his attention.

The ‘no’ actually hurt while going up his throat. To watch her play with the rest of the group —they were pretending to perform an exorcism in one of those late-night shows or something like that—, laughing and ordering them around and running with them, completely impeded from confessing his feelings was torture.

He wanted to say yes, as childish as the term sounded. He wanted her to be his ‘girlfriend’ and he knew he could never have that. He could have the closest thing, but it’d never be enough, and the only force that pushed him against his lies was that losing her over the truth would be worse.

However, there were some loops… Some things he could say. That he was _allowed_ to say without any consequence. If he told her she was beautiful, that dinner smelt lovely, that she had done an amazing job organizing his chaotic living room… she couldn’t possibly object, could she?

Some derivation of that thought was what, one clear night, eventually took him too far.

They were sitting on the couch, him watching telly and her reading a book. Nanny Ashtoreth hated Disney films because she felt like they ruined the fun of the original tales, but Francis loved them and he loved her even more for sitting next to him as he cried over Snow White’s funeral. He loved that so much he couldn’t hold back.

“You are so good to me,” he sighed, disgustingly mesmerized.

Any other day, Nanny Ashtoreth would have dismissed it with a nod and a ‘thank you’ before continuing with her activities. This time, she looked up from her book and Francis felt his blood leaving his face.

“Want to be good for me, too?”

It was his turn to nod. He wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he was certain he’d regret it if he didn’t agree. At an unusual speed for her habitual smoothness, she took her shoes off and leaned against the arm of the couch, as far as she could as she rested her feet on his lap.

“Give Nanny a massage, why don’t you?” she asked, wiggling her semi-covered toes while focusing again on her book.

Francis gulped and she looked back.

“Unless you don’t feel like it?”

“N-no,” he rushed. “No, I… It’d be no… It sure ain’t a bother. Let me just…”

And it began. He took her left foot and started to work out the knots. Oh, and were there knots. He didn’t understand how could she stand them, walking around like nothing was wrong, completely indifferent to the pain her soles should be causing her. If it was possible for him to admire her more, he just did.

Then it happened, casual and unexpected, like almost everything they did together. As he massaged her left foot, the right one —closer to his groin— started to… massage him, as well. He froze and Nanny Ashtoreth stared at him over the edge of her glasses.

“Is that okay?”

He nodded, speechless, and she didn’t waste time before continuing with the ministrations. Slowly, softly, her heel rubbed circles on the growing bulge in his trousers. She tutted him when he forgot what he was supposed to do for an instant. It was hard to concentrate on his task when her toes were now wrapping around his zipper even through the translucent stockings, pulling it down and caressing him just over his underwear.

Almost too much and yet not enough. Never enough. Why? Why couldn’t he get enough when he didn’t want anything that came after? Why did he have to stay in this trance, this limbo, this no man’s land where God wasn’t watching but could be back at any second?

He didn’t say it out loud; she stopped it herself, pulling his zipper up again and putting her legs away from his lap. She didn’t put her shoes back on, though, and Francis didn’t need to ask why before she clarified it.

“Thank you, dear. That was lovely, but…”

“But?” He shuddered.

“I’m afraid you had ruined my stocking.”

Francis could barely resist the urge to look away. There, right on the sole of her foot and the tip of her toes, unavoidable and incriminating, was a wet spot. The same spot he soon discovered on his own trousers. He felt himself blush.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… I should’ve warned you, but it—”

“Oh, calm down, dear. It’s just another chance for you to be good, isn’t it?”

Francis blinked and she smiled wickedly.

“You’ll wash it for me, won’t you? You caused it, it’s only fair that you fix it.”

He could technically say no. He could say no to anything and she wouldn’t be offended by it. So he said yes.

“Alright, go ahead.”

She raised her leg towards him, lifting her skirts a bit. Francis stared.

“Do you… I mean, right now?”

“Wash it whenever you find the most convenient, but I won’t wear dirty stockings for one more second.”

Prompted to hurry up, Francis’ hands travelled to the clip at the top and undid it, clumsy and eager. Sliding the stocking down her leg had the same effect it had months ago, when they practically didn’t know each other… multiplied by ten.

Folding the piece of satin with much more care than needed, he was ready to go back to normal.

But her foot was still resting on his knee.

“It’s not all, you know?”

Francis turned to her, both scared and aroused, if that combination of feelings existed. Nanny Ashtoreth hadn’t moved and her eyes were on his, glasses abandoned on the coffee table.

“S-sorry, my dear?”

“I said that’s not all,” she repeated, angling her chin up in a challenging gesture. She reminded him of one of those old paintings his ex-boss hang all over the house. Her bare toes traced circles on his thigh. “That isn’t the only garment of mine that we ruined.”

He exhaled a shaky sigh. She couldn’t possibly mean…

“I’m wet, Francis,” she revealed, serious, biting her lower lip as she caressed both the back of the couch with her hand and his leg with her foot. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to help me?”

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

“You don’t have to.”

And, Jesus Christ, he nodded again.

Nanny Ashtoreth got up and stood in front of him, almost between his knees. He looked up, astonished. She really wanted him to do that, to stick his hands under her skirts and… and undress her…

“Go ahead,” she ordered, remaining stern.

Francis wetted his lips and prepared to obey. His whole body was trembling and he started to sweat. His breath fastened and his heart pounded inside his chest with so much impetus he feared it might be bad news for his health. This was how he died… This was…

“I’m sorry, dear,” he whispered, defeated. “I can’t… I can’t do it. I can’t—”

“It’s alright, darling,” she shushed. “I said you didn’t have to.”

“But I want to! Just…”

“Shhh… Close your eyes.”

He did. There was nothing left for him to do. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, ready for anything she considered necessary. When he thought she was making fun of him, that she had left him alone, she took his hand and put something silky on his palm, finally making him close his fist around it. It was soaked…

Francis opened his eyes once more and squeezed the fabric, not daring to examine it. She asked if he was okay and he produced a series of noises that could be interpreted as a good sign. Then, her knee on his leg and her hand on his shoulder, pushing him against the back of the couch, deep gaze on his.

“I’m proud of you, darling,” she said, and stopped him before he could thank her. “Now, take as long as you need, don’t rush yourself, but next time…” A pause. “I won’t be the one to put them back on, hm?”

He made an affirmative gesture and she rewarded him with a peck on the tip of his nose.

“Good.”

Abandoning his lap, she turned to the television, now forgotten.

“Oh, look, your friend woke up,” she pointed at Snow White and the prince riding into the sunset. “And I suppose it’s time for us to go to sleep.” Another peck, on his lips, this time. “Goodnight, Francis.”

And she disappeared into the hallway, hips swaying as if she hadn’t just taken his virginity or something.

Still breathless, Francis looked down at himself to confirm his soul didn’t left his body. The wet spot on his leg, clearly caused by a drop that fell from _somewhere_ wasn’t enough to make him faint this time, but God knew it was a close call.

And now he had to learn how to wash silk.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where you find out the author likes them natural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I asked you to wait for the horny and reassured you it would eventually come? Well, now it's here and it's not going away. I hope y'all are happy, because I certainly am. Enjoy your meal, gentlebastards.

Knickers were strange creatures. For starters, Francis didn’t imagine how anyone could be comfortable with this type of fabric against their privates. Silk was alright for sheets and pyjamas, but there was no way it felt nice there through the friction a day of moving around would inevitably bring. For one, he couldn’t even stand a 1% of anything that wasn’t cotton in his underwear. Oh, well, his mother did say women came to Earth to suffer on a regular basis… He still didn’t feel good knowing his friend wore such uncomfortable clothes, though.

The other thing that blew his mind was… Well, the mere existence of a pair of knickers in his hand. To be honest, he always thought he would never get to see some of these up close. At least they didn’t have a woman inside, which would have been the only situation more shocking than this.

Nonetheless, the job he had to do was too important to focus on his disbelief. Although Nanny Ashtoreth said he could take as long as he needed, he didn’t enjoy the idea of leaving her waiting. Besides, did pre-… what was the proper name? Did that sort of stain become harder to wash away if he left too much time pass? Had he ruined her stocking permanently? The knickers wouldn’t be a lot of trouble —they were, after all, designed to go… there, and if women were half as susceptible as men, their underwear should be crafted to be cleaned afterwards—.

Oh, she did get wet, didn’t she? Francis had no clue what the standards were, but the fabric was unmistakeably soaked. To think he caused it… whatever he did.

Flustered by the sole concept of it, he decided to hurry up and get it done with. Not that he was eager to get rid of the evidence. Not that he wasn’t dying to touch that exact spot, the one that hours ago touched her, to know how it tasted and how it smelt like. No. Absolutely no. There were levels of creepiness and that kind of conduct would be a… six, maybe. He wouldn’t betray her trust just to produce an effect on himself he wasn’t willing to take care of.

Unless that was what she wanted him to do. Unless she planned to imply he could… Oh, forget it, he already had them under the running water, singing in his head and begging for his inner voice to be louder than his feelings.

_We’re heading across the river, wash your sins away in the dive… Just… wash them away… please…_

By the morning, the warm air of summer had already dried them and Francis entered the kitchen with both clothes in his pocket. Nanny Ashtoreth was standing by the stove cooking omelettes, so she didn’t pay him a lot of attention aside from the usual “good morning, dear.” Daring to stare despite his fears begging him not to do it, he lowered his gaze and noticed what he suspected: she was wearing just one stocking.

Did that mean she was also…?

“I… I did what you asked,” he informed her, clearing his throat with nervousness.

Nanny Ashtoreth turned back to him, not excited in a way that could potentially scare him away, but carefully pleased.

“Well, thank you, darling,” she smiled.

Francis was about to ask something in the lines of “what now?” when she turned off the stove and walked around the small kitchen island to stand in front of him. He looked up at her with terrified anticipation.

“Help me?” she requested in a voice soft enough to pass as a plea and sat on the countertop, knees modestly pressed together, shoe falling from her foot with overwhelming ease.

He closed his eyes and nodded, aware of how capable he was to break in tears if he looked at her as he agreed. He kept them closed while reaching inside his pocket. Alright, the stocking first, it shouldn’t be that hard. When he opened his eyes again, Nanny Ashtoreth’s knees weren’t together anymore and she had raised her skirts up to her middle-thighs.

Oh, Lord Almighty.

“Let me see,” she ordered, making him pass her the cloth and examining it. “Oh, darling, you did quite the good job, didn’t you? One could take a look at this and never know it touched your cock.”

Cock. Cock. Cock. Francis did have a cock… technically. On paper, at least. And on his body as well. But to have someone acknowledging it —and no other than Nanny Ashtoreth—… in those specific terms. Nanny Ashtoreth using that word referring to that specific part of his body…

God, she really called it that.

“Does that word upset you?” she questioned gently, raising an eyebrow.

Francis shook his head, muttering a choked ‘uh-uh’ she didn’t call out. He never got to apologize for it before she gave him the stocking back, lifting her skirts again.

Light-headed, Francis took her foot and slid the stocking up her thin leg to the desired height. Then he realized the straps of her garter belt were out of sight, somewhere under her clothes. She probably knew that, but she still made no effort to remedy it. He’d have to do it himself.

“Tell me… Tell me if…” Another head-shake. “Don’t tell me anything.”

Without further ado, his trembling fingers reached under the fabric and searched. Nanny Ashtoreth opened her legs a bit more and Francis thanked God for making her wear such discrete clothes, otherwise… “Insert something bad here”, suggested his moral compass.

He sighed when he found the straps, pulling them towards where they needed to be. As he did that, the side of his little finger brushed briefly against a moist texture he didn’t have a lot of references of. Hair, perhaps?

“ _Ngk!_ ” she gasped, throwing her head back, and Francis put his hand away.

“Are you okay?”

Nanny Ashtoreth nodded, eyelids sealed, forehead wrinkled by the intensity of her frown. Desperate for finishing something he didn’t want to end, Francis focused on the task of clipping her stocking and probably broke a speed record.

“There.”

She stared back at him with heavy eyelids and crossed her legs in an instinctive act, too far gone to disguise the way she was rubbing them against each other.

“Everything’s alright?” he asked, waking her up from her trance and reminding her to keep her knees together.

“Of course, darling, of course,” she exhaled. “Thank you.”

Francis couldn’t hold back a smile, glad he had overcome his insecurities… at least the ones on the front-line. But it wasn’t over. She didn’t move.

“Anything else?”

Oh… That…

Patting his pocket with renovated anxiety, he took the knickers and a deep breath. Nanny Ashtoreth was waiting, lips parted and cheeks coloured. She looked beautiful and heavenly and Francis wanted nothing but to touch her again… and he couldn’t do it.

It was so obvious that he couldn’t, that it wasn’t necessary for him to say anything. She figured it out herself. How pathetic was that?

“I suppose it’s enough for a day,” she concluded, both tone and face as sweet as honey, hand giving his cheek a comforting caress. “You’ve done wonderfully, my dear. I’m very proud.”

Francis only wanted to cry. Why? Why did he have to behave like this? Why was it impossible for him to…?

Then she kissed him and everything was okay.

“Oh, finish the omelettes yourself, if you don’t mind,” she prompted, getting off the countertop and sitting by the table. “Nanny’s a bit tired.”

“But… but I’m not a great cook…”

“You weren’t a great gardener, either,” she replied without malice, in a sincere attempt to encourage him. “I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to… all in good time, of course.”

He caught the double-meaning of that statement and appreciated it in silence as he walked to the stove and turned it on.

“It’s a good thing we didn’t take it as far as we intended, if you ask me,” she commented once he joined her, between sips of her steaming cup of tea. “Otherwise we’d already have to do it again.”

What.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly so deep and personal I can't think of a quirky summary for it. Warning for religious guilt and fear of condemnation, I guess.

The rest of the weekend flew in a superficially normal way. Their routine remained the same, with them laying around in hopes to feel the heat wave less violently, reading and listening to the oldies station the ancient radio had gotten stuck on sometime in the nineties. However, Francis’ thoughts were anything but normal.

His mind, just like his radio, seemed to be stuck, unable to go forward or backwards. Constantly on the verge of saying something, of interrupting Nanny Ashtoreth’s usual activities to let her know he was ready to… No, he obviously wasn’t ready. He couldn’t even think it out loud.

So many times he was close to act, to admit to the fact the woman living in his house wasn’t wearing knickers and he was the only one who could change that. It’s about time, he liked telling himself. That was she always told him to calm his doubts, to reassure him. But deep down, he knew the day would never come and she’d end up giving up on him.

It happened on Sunday’s afternoon. They were sitting on the backyard, side by side on their respective loungers, drinking iced tea as she read a book about advanced engineering —he didn’t question it, at this point— and carelessly passed to Francis the small birds and butterflies who would occasionally stand on her fingers —a gesture he appreciated; especially because she would no longer say ‘so you’ve chosen death’ to the poor little creatures—.

The silence was lovely and the weather, perfect, a bit colder than the latest days. Francis was rejoicing in the domesticity of cottage life with someone he liked next to him, when she said it:

“I’m picking up Tyler and his siblings from school tomorrow.”

Francis looked at her.

“Oh, don’t ask me, I don’t even know how it happened. Turns out both their parents will be busy and it’s always useful to have people owing you favours.”

He smiled. Seeing her do nice things even if she made up excuses for them was an equal but opposite force to what a fetish should be. Luckily, she couldn’t hear his thoughts… not till she proved otherwise.

“The point is,” she continued, “I won’t be around children with no underwear on. I’m sorry, my dear, that’s where I draw the line.”

His heart sank.

“Oh.”

Nanny Ashtoreth turned to him, leaving her book and glass on the table between them.

“Listen here, darling, I’m not trying to force you into anything or saying you won’t get another chance.” She reached out for his hand and took it. “But if you do want to do it, it’ll have to be today.”

Francis inhaled a shuddered breath and closed his eyes. Having taken a few seconds to compose himself, he returned her look.

“I want to,” he sighed, shamefully. “I really do. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I… I can’t find the words. I can’t… I don’t know how to explain. It’s all so much. The other morning I accidentally touched you and—”

“You don’t have to touch me. You don’t even have to look. I can guide you through it while you look away. It’s not about pushing your boundaries all at once.”

“I know!” he sobbed, barely in control anymore. “But it’s so… it sounds so close to…”

“To what?”

“To what they did. To what… young people at my hometown did. They’d look away, they’d keep their clothes on, they… It seemed so innocent, as if they weren’t getting themselves condemned. And the worst part is that I thought the same and the only reason why I never… took part, let’s say, it’s ’cause no girl liked me enough to try it with me.”

That was it, wasn’t it? There was no way Nanny Ashtoreth would go with it… whatever it was. Someone like her, who had seen the world, who must had tried everything, who had who knew how many people before him… She couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t sit there and pretend it didn’t bother her, that she wouldn’t rather be somewhere else with someone who could give her what she wanted.

“Francis,” she called quietly, and that was when he realized he had lowered his head. Her hand on his chin made him look back. “What those young people were doing wasn’t condemnable, and neither were you for wanting it.”

“I… I know, but…” He blinked a few tears away. “I left that town. I… I wasn’t kicked out, I left ’cause… I didn’t want that life anymore. I didn’t believe in that life anymore. But it’s not that simple. I thought I was leaving to something else and that… that something else never happened. And I came so close to believe in that town again.”

“Dear, I can’t convince you to give those beliefs up. I can’t show you how neither you nor any of those people will be punished in the afterlife. But I can assure you, it doesn’t matter if you take clothes off or not, if you look or not, if you’re fifteen or fifty… It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to be innocent or sinful, it doesn’t have to be more or less good or bad. It—”

“It’s all the same,” he concluded, appalled.

“Yes, because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to. You’re the one who decides what it is, not… someone else. It’s yours to do whatever you want with it.”

Francis looked into her eyes and only found compassion and understanding. He almost wished she was the manipulative seductress she liked to think she was, so he wouldn’t have to recognize how right her words were. He couldn’t afford to believe her.

And yet, he did.

“I don’t want it to feel like that,” he exhaled. “I… It’s the only thing I really don’t want it to be. I don’t want it to remind me of… I want it to be us, as who we are, as what… what we’ve made of… of each other, I suppose.”

Despite his inability to explain himself, she seemed to get it. She always got it.

“I have an idea,” she said after a while. “It’s… risky, but I think it might help.” She squeezed his hand. “Francis, you can always say no, but I truly need you to trust me on this.”

He nodded without even asking a single question. He didn’t have to. Nanny Ashtoreth gave his hand a last squeeze and stood up, only to get herself on his lap, legs hanging to the side of the lounger. It wasn’t invasive, but it felt incredibly important.

“I’m very sorry no girl liked you enough to do those things with you,” she whispered, honest as she looked at him in the eye, hands now resting on his shoulders. “There weren’t boys who liked me, either. But that’s behind us now. Now…” Her left hand rose to his jaw. “Now you’re a man who has a woman who wants all those things and more from you. And I promise I’ll make it worth your while, okay?”

“O-okay…” he stuttered after a second of panting.

Nanny Ashtoreth gave him a chaste him before getting up.

“Come find me when I call you, even if it’s just to say you changed your mind.”

He agreed as she walked into the house, grateful that she still respected him so much. However, he didn’t think so much respect was needed this time.

This time, he was almost certain his mind wouldn’t change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos if you also love ambigulously magic Nanny Ashtoreth, with things mysteriously exploding when she's upset and forest creatures landing on her finger despite her threats.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis' epic quest to give his woman's underwear back comes to an end.
> 
> TIDDIES, but make it emotional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost an hour past my bedtime and my mom is gonna call me out on my bullshit at any second (not a minor, btw, just third world country). Have this barely edited chapter and I hope you enjoy yourselves.

By ten pm, he was starting to fear —or hope, he wasn’t sure— that she had forgotten. He still tried to focus on telly —whatever was going on in there—, enjoying the nice temperature in the air and the tastes of dinner refusing to leave his mouth; but she hadn’t spoken as they ate, let alone referring to what she planned to do, and the thought of her deciding not to do it was as intrusive as his own insecurities about it.

That was the word he chose to call them: insecurities. That was what they were, now that he had spent enough time alone with his thoughts to analyse it. Fears didn’t quite match the nature of his feelings. Fear implied a wish to run away, which he was certain he didn’t want to do. Not without an explanation, at least.

Oh, and he was supposed to explain even if he chose to back out. She would ask him. Well, that assuming she remembered. Because she could have forgotten. It was ten pm. She’d pick up children from school in just fifteen hours, more or less. She probably needed the rest. Resting was probably more important than…

“Dear, could you come here for a moment, please?” Her voice made him jump.

Francis nodded despite the fact she was obviously not there to see, and left the couch and living room in a hurried waddle, cleaning his already clean hands on his trousers. He rushed down the hallway with his heart pounding loudly and stopped when he realize he didn’t really know where she was.

Oh, no, he’d have to use words…

“Where…” He cleared his throat to prevent it from failing him. “Where are you… um, exactly?”

“The bathroom.”

The bathroom. The bathroom. The bathroom. Which door was the bathroom? Oh, no, he forgot where his own bathroom was. How could he live a normal life after this?

Luckily, the cottage wasn’t that big and as he thought about it, a door opened behind him. So there was the bathroom…

Turning around, partially blinded by the white light, he stepped in and immediately froze.

“Take a seat, please,” she asked him as if it was nothing. “And close the door, if that makes you feel better.”

Francis gulped and nodded once more. This time she could see, even though it wasn’t the clearest nod in the world. And he obeyed, groping behind him, trying to find the door and close it, all without taking his eyes away from her. He couldn’t.

Her hair was dry, falling on her shoulders, but he could tell she had taken a bath because there was still some steam on the mirror, the hairdryer and brush lied on the sink’s worktop and… Well, she was naked.

Not naked in a biblical sense, for God’s sake! But as in… not wearing anything under her clothes? Though by those standards, everyone would be naked all the time. A more accurate way to described would be: she was only wearing a black bathrobe. And he couldn’t see much of her body aside from her legs up to the knees and a bit of cleavage, but he was 100% sure she wasn’t wearing anything else.

“Okay?” she inquired, waiting for him to react.

Francis stuttered and muttered several syllables of what could be actual words in English as he sat on the toilet’s closed lid. Once safe on a solid surface, he dared to choke out a “yes.”

Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t seem to believe it.

“Sure?”

Sure… Sure! Aside from his heart threatening to give up at any second and his uncontrollable urge to cry, he certainly was okay. If okay meant he didn’t want to run away even though his whole body and mind begged him to do so, he was the next thing to okay. But he couldn’t say that or she would convince him he wasn’t ready, so he chose to simply insist on his normal levels of well-being.

“Dear,” she started with intent, taking a few steps towards him, though not quite close enough, “you do understand what I’m going to do, right?”

“Yes,” he sighed without thinking about it. He didn’t need to meditate it any longer to know that he knew. Maybe he had always known.

“Do you agree with this?”

It was a bit harder this time. He had to close his eyes. But he still said it.

“Y-yes, dearie…”

He took a deep breath through his nose, tightly gripping the fabric against his knees as he heard her moving, untying the knot of her belt and pulling it off. He waited for the sound of clothes falling and it never came.

“Francis?”

“ _Mhm?_ ”

“Maybe it’d be easier if you actually looked.”

“You… you think so?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think… What do _you_ want?”

Careful, hesitant, his eyelids fluttered. The bathrobe was now slightly opened, but she still held it in its place so nothing new was on sight. He feared, for a second, she would make a show of taking it off. But it only took her a fast, sharp movement to make the cotton pool around her ankles, as if she understood that anything more theatrical would do nothing to help him.

She kept her arms hanging at the sides of her body, showing she didn’t have anything to hide, and Francis appreciated it as well. He would need time and space to drink the nakedness of her in, to truly process it and accept it as a reality in his life.

Astonished, he opened his mouth, but didn’t pronounce a word. He couldn’t even think of something to say, or perhaps there were too many things he wanted to say all at once. And yet, as he stared wide-eyed, not a single adjective came to mind.

As already implied, Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t a conventionally attractive woman. Her shoulders were in fact broad, broader than her hips, and she had no discernible waist whatsoever, aside from a slight curve that he barely could discern from where he was sitting. Her legs were long, of course, but didn’t meet the standards of any post-Roaring Twenties era, just like her small breasts, smaller than Francis ever thought breasts could get without being inexistent. Her arms were just as thin and ended in surprisingly big hands, now that he saw her without her coat and blouse, and a bush of untrimmed dark hair covered her private parts.

And she was the loveliest creature he had ever lied his eyes on, no despite all those things, but almost because of them. Francis never thought it’d be possible for someone to be so comfortable in their own skin —he always imagined even supermodels should have insecurities from time to time—, to carry their body around with so much pride.

On her, there was no such thing as a flaw, and even that felt like not doing her enough justice, because it implied those details were flaws at all. They weren’t. He wasn’t thinking ‘she doesn’t care about her flaws and that makes her beautiful’; he was thinking ‘this woman has no flaws and people must be crazy to think otherwise.’

“Still okay?” she said in a soft voice.

Francis made eye-contact, wetting his suddenly dry lips.

“Yes… More than… More than so.”

Her mouth twitched in a closed smile, as subtle as the curve of her waist. Then she raised an eyebrow.

“Now can I please have my underwear back?”

“O-Of course!” he coughed, reaching inside his pocket and failing twice before finding what he was looking for. “Here.”

She stepped closer, almost between his legs, and waited for him to move. Rushed and trembling, Francis lowered himself to help her get her legs inside the knickers, forehead inches away from her lower belly. He pulled them up and felt the hot skin of her hips while settling them around them.

“There,” he announced, quickly standing up.

He was so quick and unexpected his chest brushed lightly against her nipples for a second and she gasped. Her nipples were probably the most conventionally-attractive thing about her: pink and well-defined. He also noticed she had little freckles are over her, a fact he never considered before.

“Anything else?”

Nanny Ashtoreth looked at him.

“I don’t know, darling. Anything else?”

He bit his thumb and looked away, trying to make a decision. It was over, he did what he had to do and the world didn’t end. They could go to sleep right now and go on with their lives in the morning. He was allowed to choose that without feeling like a failure.

“I…” he began, eyes going down to her breasts. “May I… touch them?”

She gave a look down, too, perhaps to make sure they were on the same page, and stared back at him in shock as she confirmed they were. Her gaze softened immediately.

“Of course, dear.”

His hands, as shaky as before, moved towards her breasts and cupped them. They were soft. He didn’t know breasts could be so soft, although he should have figured. Boys in high school and rich men at work always talked about how soft their lovers’ breasts were. He still believed her were even softer, though. Softer than average. She simply was better than everyone else.

Nanny Ashtoreth sighed and Francis jumped, worried that he had hurt her. He was quite bad with his hands. Clumsy and rough, not out of cruelty but just pure inability. However, she didn’t seem to be in pain.

So he started massaging. Uncertain, afraid, constantly looking for approval or discomfort in her expression, but incredibly focused on making her feel good. It was all he cared about. And it was so easy. The way they adjusted to the shape of his palms, the contrast of textures… Were all breasts so perfect or did soul mates exist?

“Your thumbs…” she exhaled.

“S-sorry?”

“Your thumbs, dear. Use your thumbs.”

“Oh.”

And he did it. Just as timid, he reached out towards the centre with his thumbs and began to rub gentle circles on her nipples. Now her breathing was indeed fastened. No one would hear what they were doing and think it was not sexual. He discovered, in shock, that he didn’t mind.

“Like this?” he muttered.

“Mhm…” she nodded, biting her lower lip.

“Alright.”

He continued like that for a few minutes, finding more and more things she enjoyed and, God, did he enjoy them too. At one time, he tried something that pulled a moan out of her. A real moan, not the little sighs she had been leaving out moments ago.

“Did that feel good?”

“Yes,” she reassured him, though it sounded more like ‘what do you think, Einstein?’

Francis nodded and insisted on it, never getting the same reaction and not giving it a second thought because it still was clear she liked it all the same.

“Feels even better if you use your mouth,” she added.

That ended it. His fingers froze, his hands froze, his whole body froze. The Earth stopped spinning and the stars and planets fell from the galaxy, leaving it empty.

“You don’t have to,” she clarified, realizing her mistake that wasn’t really a mistake.

“I…” Francis managed to say. “I think this is all we… I think for… for today, I mean… We, uh…”

Nanny Ashtoreth rested a hand on his cheek and smiled.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. “It’s okay.”

Soon her arms were around his shoulders and his were around her waist. The stars and planets were back, but it was his turn to collapse against her. And so he did. Hiding his face against her chest, her fingers running through his hair, he started sobbing.

“It’s okay, dear… You’re okay…”

He should have told her he really was. His tears, although just as painful, weren’t tears of sadness. He was happy for himself, for them both and for everything they had accomplished together. He was proud of his own bravery and progress. If anything, he felt extremely sorry for the people they were decades ago, before finding each other. The scared boy who no one wanted and was too much of a coward to want to be wanted, anyway; the girl who was told no one would want her while all man wanted to use her because they desired her too much, and she should be grateful that they would look past everything that make her undesirable.

He cried because he wished they could see them now. He cried because he wasn’t free from the shadow of that boy yet and she was already so away from the girl she was. He cried because he wasn’t sure that girl was so far behind her either.

He cried for so many things and all he could say was ‘thank you’, again and again. And still… she understood.

She always understood.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 90% of the practices that make the author all tingly, but make it his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest I've taken to update since I decided to make this fic the only purpose of my little life. I'm sorry, but as you can see, it's also a very long chapter in comparison. I don't have an excuse aside from... Well, you know some reptiles stop eating because they're just too horny for that? Well, that happened to me with this chapter. Replace eating with writing and there you go. Still, I hope you enjoy it <3

Weeks after the first time he saw her naked, Francis came to the realization that he wanted to see her naked again. It wasn’t that much of an epiphany, to be honest, but an unconscious desire that enjoying coming to the surface every now and then.

But he wouldn’t dare to take the first step and tell her this, not without an idea of what would happen, of what he would make different. Making it different was the real challenge, more than anything else. He couldn’t go and ask her to take her clothes off unless he planned to do something about it. If he made a show of being ready and then broke down in tears, if she told him to use his mouth and he yet again refused… Would there even be a third chance?

So his choice was clear… more or less. He wouldn’t start a game he wasn’t prepared to play and he’d stick to the games he was comfortable playing instead. When and if the opportunity arose, it would come entirely from her, not him. And, oh, Jesus, how he wanted her to come up with something.

Even though the biggest step taken didn’t repeat, there still were a few changes in their interactions. For starters, she sometimes asked for things she didn’t ask for before. It didn’t always happen, but some mornings —maybe one out of five—, she would come to his room and request his assistance for his beauty rituals. He would take her hair-curlers off and brush her hair and help her pick her make-up —although there weren’t many options and he regularly suggested the usual style—.

A certain day, she offered to teach him how to paint her nails —teachings that consisted mostly on her firmly grabbing his wrist and forcing his shaking hand to do what it had to do, with next to none effort on his part whatsoever—. The distress the task produced was rewarded with a special cake after lunch and the expected belly rubs that such cake would require a few hours later.

Aside from these new rituals, everything remained the same. Francis did not… dislike it, of course, but as weeks went by it was becoming painfully obvious that they both wanted more. He didn’t need to be the most evolved man to notice that. And God knew it was driving him insane.

It clearly was a bubble ready to pop. And that morning of the last days of summer, he woke up with the unnameable certainty that it was going to explode at any second.

* * *

Francis often forgot his own birthday, probably a consequence of his rather cold upbringing. In the town where he grew up, no one really liked celebrations and even though he had left many years ago, the strange feeling of wrongness and egocentrism of birthday parties remained deep inside his conscience.

He wouldn’t even recall it now if it wasn’t for what happened exactly eight years ago, when the Collins’ child was born. He remembered quite clearly: it was a complicated pregnancy and a true miracle that both the baby and the mother survived, and he thought ‘oh, isn’t that funny? We were born the same day.’ Now the young girl named Daisy was turning eight, her parents long gone in a car accident and her grandmother, the far too snobby to his liking Blanche, refused every year to give her a proper party.

She didn’t expect, of course, Nanny Ashtoreth to find out. As soon as she did —she always did—, it was a fact Daisy would celebrate her birthday this time, and Francis was so enamoured by this he forgot about his own birthday again.

Blanche Collins wouldn’t want her house full of children with grabby hands and sticky fingers, but she didn’t have a problem with letting her granddaughter go out and disappear for a whole day. Turns out Brother Francis didn’t care about his house being full of children at all. Actually, he preferred it. Children were lovely creatures once one learned how to behave around them, and they filled any space with joy and life, like God intended.

And that was how they spent their Saturday. Serving hamburgers and cakes and sweets, running around the garden, organizing a treasure hunt in the safest part of the forest behind the cottage and making sure nobody got hurt. It was one of the best days of Francis’ life and the first good birthday he had in a very long time… perhaps the first of them all.

When the sun went down and the older children decided to take the younger ones home, Daisy let go of Ashley’s hand and ran back to them, hugging them both and crying as they told her she had nothing to thank them for. Francis didn’t even care she blew her nose in his smock, as heart-breaking it was to see her cry.

They waved them a last goodbye and got into the house, tired but rejoicing in a well-done job.

“What a lovely day,” he said, hanging his hat. “Don’t you think?”

“Oh, by all means, dear,” she agreed, walking farther into the living room and picking up a lamp a kid had knocked off by accident. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Francis choked.

“S-sorry?”

Nanny Ashtoreth turned back to him, serious.

“I said happy birthday.”

“How… how did you…”

“It was on your profile, silly,” she chuckled. “What? You thought I ignored all those details and just picked the most handsome man judging by looks only?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled too, more insecure than he hoped.

Getting closer, she grabbed his hand and started walking.

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

Francis choked once more. Oh, at this pace he would end up in the hospital before summer was over.

“I haven’t given you my present yet, have I?”

What could he do aside from nodding and following her?

* * *

Once in his bedroom, he took the usual spot at the middle of the bed and looked at her. She didn’t move.

“What… Um, what did you want to give me, my dear?” he asked softly after a while.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, walking closer to the bed and leaning towards him. “What do you want?”

Francis blinked, shocked. This was too good to be true. This was too true to be good. This was just… too _good_ to be good. She was finally giving him the chance, wasn’t she? The chance she never denied him but still felt out of reach. Now he could take it. But he had to make sure it was a safe bet first.

“Anything,” she added, as if she knew his exact thoughts.

“A-anything?” he whispered.

“Mhm.”

“With no…” _Oh, how to phrase this…_ “Without consequences?”

Her grin intensified and she leaned even closer.

“Well, without unpleasant consequences is all I can promise.”

He gulped.

“That will do…”

“Perfect. So…” She stood up straight. “How do you want me?”

_Naked…_

“Um… Would you mind terribly… Eh, I mean… Could I…” He closed his eyes and got it out as fast as he could. “CanIpleaseseeyouagain?”

When he opened his eyes again, he found hers were gentle and understanding, yet somehow predatory.

“How would you like to see me?”

_There’s no way she isn’t aware of that…_

“Oh, well… with less clothes on?”

Her eyes seemed to glow now, her smile growing wilder.

“How many clothes?”

“N-not that many!” he clarified, in panic. “Just… just enough to be… comfortable, if you don’t mind.”

She feigned disgust.

“Oh, if there’s one thing I hate is being comfortable,” she joked, and proceeded to fulfil his wish.

The coat and sunglasses were the first ones to go, as expected. However, she still gave him a look of ‘are you sure?’ before removing her blouse and once she reached the waist of her skirts.

“They’re not that comfortable,” she confessed. “So…”

Francis took a deep breath and nodded. The skirt and the petticoat fell to the carpet and she stood there, arms hanging at either side of her body like the first time, only in her underwear and stockings.

“I think I’m done.”

Francis fought the urge to look at her from head to toe, ignoring how allowed he was to do just that. He was a gentleman, after all.

“Could you…” he started his next request. “Come here, I mean? Like usually?”

“Of course, dear.”

And just as usual, she got on the bed, crawling through it to the already familiar place right between his legs. She kneeled there, hands on her own freckled thighs as she waited for instructions. Francis drank her in, the way the dim orange light of the lamp washed over her exposed skin, not as in-the-face like the white incandescent bulb in the bathroom, but more subtle, dancing on the line between being suggestive and being art. There was still something missing, though.

“The… Um, brassiere, too?” he tested his luck.

“How proper,” she teased, turning around so her back was towards him.

“Uh… What am I—”

“Did you really think I’d be doing all the job?” She looked back over her shoulder. “At least try and I’ll help you if you truly can’t do it.”

It was not that Francis agreed more than he really wanted to do this for her. So maybe he did agree. But, to be fair, he wanted to do _something_ for her, not specifically making a fool of himself. Oh, it was already done…

It took him several tries. Bras were powerful enemies and every failure made him feel worse and worse for women and how they were forced to wear them. One did get used to it after a while, right?

Finally, five minutes later in which he refused all her offerings to take the damn thing off herself, he did it. The black lacy garment fell from her chest into his hands, ready to catch it because losing grasp of it would be the only humiliating thing that could happen at this point. Careful, he left it on the nightstand. Even though she didn’t mind leaving her clothes on the floor a few minutes ago, he feared it’d be different if he did just that. He didn’t mean to disrespect her or her fancy underwear.

He did a great job, it seemed. Once his victory was sealed, Nanny Ashtoreth turned back to him and pressed a peck on his lips before he could even see her.

“Well done, darling,” she smiled, mercifully ignoring how his eyes lowered to her chest as she spoke. “Now… can I ask for something, too?”

He made an affirmative gesture that his terrified expression made look forced, although it really wasn’t. It was a blessing how good she had come to read him after all those months.

“Can we take off the usual?”

Her hands were already on the hem of his smock as she said that, but he knew she wouldn’t pull it up without his explicit consent.

“S-sure thing… We can do that.”

Another peck. Francis’ semi-sitting position made the removal of his clothes a lot easier. Sooner than later, his smock, shirt and undershirt were gone. Once he was out of them, Nanny Ashtoreth gave him a minute to get used to the sight. It shouldn’t shock him that much, but it did. Both of them partially naked at the same time, together…

“Okay?”

He swallowed the combination of insecurity that comparing himself to her brought him with how hard it was to assimilate it all and nodded.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

Francis was about to repeat an automatic good when she returned her attention to his mouth, sliding her way up like she always did, purposely grinding her chest against his. The difference was that there was no longer fabric between them and the feeling of skin against skin made him as light-headed as her arms wrapping around his neck and her lips finding his, parting them with her tongue.

Oh, what a wonderful and overwhelming thing this was. How close he was to passing out and how close he was to not caring at all. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, his lips, his life, but it was still the greatest experience he could ever had imagined.

“Dear, you really can touch if you want,” she reminded him, before attacking again.

He hadn’t forgotten, yet her words were the reassurance he needed to go for it. Then it was effortless. His hands cupped her breasts like that night at the beginning of summer, the one before the last week of school, and she gasped into the kiss she couldn’t maintain for much longer. To see it was also too much for her… He wasn’t alone on this, despite his initial beliefs.

That was when he remembered. She once mentioned she never allowed men to take too many clothes off. Maybe… maybe it was the first time someone touched her like this. Of course, some men touched her breasts before, but… like this? Literally like this? Francis doubted and felt terrible for finding some joy on that thought. He wasn’t jealous of her previous lovers —he wouldn’t have any right to be—, yet it was rewarding to think he was giving her something no one ever gave her.

Nanny Ashtoreth backed away, their bodies no longer pressing, though it wasn’t a reject. Just a consequence of how hard to handle all these sensations were for her, too. The only stimulation she could take right now were his hands on her breasts, his thumbs on her nipples, just like she taught him.

Focused like a surgeon at the operating room, Francis leaned forward, mesmerized by how beautiful her whole presence was. And he leaned forward and forward, till his eyes were at the level of the zone he was caressing, till his breath tickled her and made the little hairs there stand on end.

“Go ahead,” she encouraged, almost growling.

Francis looked up.

“Use your mouth, darling,” she insisted, fingers running through his hair. “I know you want to.”

“But… I… I don’t…”

“Don’t overthink it, just do it. I promise you’ll make Nanny feel so good if you do.”

Francis stared back at her nipples, erect under his thumbs, blushing. They looked so fragile…

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, falling against the mountains of pillows again. “I… I can’t.”

Warm and compassionate, she returned to her place, face-down on top of him, and kissed his cheek.

“It’s okay, dear,” she said, pressing more kisses down his jawline and throat. “It’s okay…”

Francis felt the urge to cry invading him, but her attentions softened it a bit. Her lips were now moving down his chest, no longer kissing but sliding, smoothly, towards his right nipple.

“I’ll show you how good it feels,” she announced before wrapping them around it.

He moaned. Not the whimpering noises he sometimes made when the pleasure was enough for him to experience no shame about it, but an actual moan. Nanny Ashtoreth’s eyes found his terrified face and she would have smiled if she wasn’t so focused on showing him what he was depriving her from.

Oh, her tongue… Francis couldn’t come up with a God-honouring way to describe it. He was beginning to believe the Bible would be more popular if it suggested some positive adjectives for this kind of situation. His conscience reminded him the Bible would never describe this with positive adjectives and his chest sank before she pulled it back to surface with her lips.

Francis didn’t count the minutes. He couldn’t even count the seconds. Just lying there, biting his fist not to scream and internally punching himself for refusing to take this step months ago, took an incredible power of will. She then moved to his other nipple and gave it the same treatment, though not for that long. She had proven her point, anyway.

“Was that good, darling?” she smiled as if she wasn’t killing him.

Francis couldn’t even close his mouth to pronounce a ‘yes’. He just nodded and hoped it was clear enough for her taste.

“Still don’t want to try it on me?”

There was no pressure in her question, but Francis felt like she was holding a gun while saying it. Not to shoot him herself, of course. Far worse, she was gently offering it to him so he could press it against his own heart and pull the trigger. If it didn’t hurt all the same, it hurt even more.

“It’s not… it’s not I don’t…”

She shushed him and kissed his trembling lips before he could start sobbing.

“Let’s try something we both like instead, mhm?”

“O-okay…”

With everything fixed, she reached out to the nightstand and grabbed an object Francis was already familiar with: the massage oil. She popped the bottle open and put a fair share of its content in her hand, rubbing it against the other for a while before resting both on his chest. Nothing aside from the usual, but it felt so different with her being topless too.

Without giving it a second thought, Francis grabbed the bottle and did the same as her, looking into her eyes for confirmation. She didn’t say anything, but she did take hold of his hand and placed it right between her collarbones, letting him know he was allowed.

Now they were standing on equal ground, massaging the oil into each other’s skin, putting all their energy into not leaving a single inch unattended. She gasps when his palms reached her breasts and gasped again when his wet fingers closed around her nipples, so gentle it hurt. She did the same for him until there wasn’t but a ghost of oil on her hands.

“Can I sit here?” she asked, patting the thick thighs at both sides of her.

Francis nodded and they shifted for a while before finding the new position, her straddling him. Then they got more oil and continued with a process that would be finished already if they didn’t enjoy it so much. When it was obvious they didn’t have any reason to keep going, she lowered herself on top of him and kissed him, their oily bodies rubbing against each other.

He could barely conjure up a single thought. The whole room was on fire. Their sweat mixed up with the oil. Their kisses in which their lips did the hardest part and their tongues went out to find each other somehow felt dirtier than any open-mouthed contact he had seen in those awful new television shows. Her nipples were so hard they ghosted above his chest even when they were unconnected and the hair that used to make him think he was disgusted apparently did something to her skin he never thought it could do.

A soft ‘fuck’ escaped her mouth when her hips accidentally went higher on him and suddenly she was sitting right where he wouldn’t dare to hope for her to sit in a hundred years. Now… now she wasn’t only sitting; she was grinding and even bouncing a little. It was so close to the actual thing Francis wondered what kind of technicality would save him from Hell.

Of all the technicalities his mind could considerate, this was by far the most pleasurable one.

They didn’t stop. They didn’t want to stop. For God’s sake, he didn’t want to stop. It was his responsibility entirely. She was always frank about how she wanted this and he was always the one to push her away. Now he just wanted her to push down a little harder, a little more intensely and maybe stay there for a while, rolling her hips in that exact same way.

Oh, and she didn’t even need his instructions to do just that. From a second to another, the clothes that kept them apart were on the verge of being ridiculous, as if they had stopped making sense. As if everything had stopped making sense except this, their sexes finding each other even behind all that fabric, meant to be. And the stupidity of that thought couldn’t reach him when he was this high. Nothing could. His head was spinning, the wetness was so obvious and so much he couldn’t tell how much of it belonged to whom anymore, his erection was right between her…

She stopped moving. Not immediately, but fast enough, like a car pulling aside from a road at night. Fast enough for him to understand what went wrong before he felt her thumb drying the tear he didn’t notice.

“It’s okay,” she comforted him.

“But I was…”

“You were great, darling. Now get some rest, alright?”

She kissed his forehead and left his lap, sitting by his side instead. Her hand went straight for the lamp, turning it off, and the other one was pulling the sheets open despite Francis still lying on top of them.

“Get some rest,” she repeated, gently forcing him to get under the sheets.

“Stay with me?” he said, compulsively.

Though it was hard to see her in the darkness, she felt her shift.

“Just because it’s your birthday,” she warned, getting under the sheets as well and turning her back at him.

Francis sighed happily and dried the rest of his tears. He didn’t recall crying but he knew it was possible. A situation like that would have made him sob beyond control not so long ago. But he’d be okay as long as he didn’t notice, right?

He’d be okay as long as he had her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one when you cowards can no longer picture Brother Francis with Aziraphale's face. Deal with the wrong choice you made and I'll wash your sins in satanic nanny juices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter. I didn't read it twice and even as I wrote it I knew it was full of mistakes and the twenty English words I know. Probably will edit it later, though I can't make any promises. I don't like coming at you with weak-ass chapters, but I truly don't have the energy to deal with this now. My heart hurts and it must be second Wednesday because my stomach, ovaries and uterus are turning turtle. I haven't eaten anything since lunch and I lost so much weight in two days. Sorry if this level of details upset anyone, but I needed to vent. Hope you enjoy the chapter, anyway lol

Francis hadn’t slept hugging a pillow since he left his mother’s home. He didn’t have a particular reason for stopping, he just did, though he suspected it was his crushing need to remind himself of how on his own he was. He couldn’t indulge in the lightest sense of comfort, or he would come back and coming back wasn’t easy.

The morning after his first real birthday, Francis held a pillow again. He never really noticed how soft and firm his pillows were. He always thought they were a bit too mushy, never keeping his head up the way his neck liked, but one particular pillow felt nice that morning. So nice, he couldn’t help but rubbing his cheek against it, feelings its warmth and accidentally nuzzling his nose against its nipple.

Wait a minute…

He was too sleepy to recall if pillows had nipples, but they certainly didn’t gasp when someone nuzzled them.

Shooting his eyes open, Francis jumped back, though Nanny Ashtoreth made sure he wouldn’t go too far.

“I’m sorry!” he said.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” she spoke quietly, pulling him back to her chest.

“But I… I didn’t mean to… I was asleep, I swear.”

“That’s right, my dear, you were asleep; I wasn’t. I could have stopped it if I really wanted to.” She ran a gentle hand through his hair. “Now… care to go again?”

Francis looked to her bare chest, washed by the early morning light that came through the curtains.

“I can’t, I’m sorry…” he huffed, turning on his back and covering his face. “This is so embarrassing!”

“No, it’s not,” she replied, sitting up. “Just a bit confusing on my end. I wish you would explain.”

“Explaining is what makes it so embarrassing.”

“Absolutely not. Explaining makes it easier.” Her hand found his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me, dear, does it have something to do with your —how should I put it— spiritual boundaries?”

He shook his head.

“Then what is it? You’ve never seemed particularly upset by this particular practice. In fact, I always thought it’d be the least difficult activity for you to take part in it. Though I suppose I’d own you an apology if I misread the situation…”

“No, you… you didn’t.”

“Well, I hoped so, since you let me do it to you a few hours ago. But please do tell me, why would it be any different if you were the one doing it?”

Francis sobbed and whimpered into his hands before daring to look back at her through his fingers.

“We’re different.”

Nanny Ashtoreth puffed, looking away as she seemed to think it over.

“I don’t see how.”

Francis took his hands away from his face, revealing his wet eyes and shivering lips.

“You really don’t?”

In solidarity with his current state, she reached out for her bra and put it back on, shrugging. Her attempts to help him only caused for him to cry harder.

“My teeth! I’m talking about my teeth!” he exploded, turning on his belly to bury his face on the pillows.

Caressing his back and hair, she let him get it all out, patient and far too silent for his liking. How he wished she would lie to him, tell him it was nothing, that she never gave it a single thought, that it didn’t push her away from him in the slightest… but one of the reasons why he loved her so much, was that she always remained honest.

“Are you done?” she asked seriously when he went quiet.

Francis nodded against the pillow.

“Perfect. Well… Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

“Oh, please…”

“I mean it. I don’t see why it should be a problem or an impediment to—”

“Dear, I appreciate your nice words, I really do, but—”

“There is no need to use that kind of language.”

“And there’s… with all due respect, there’s no way you haven’t noticed.”

“Notice what?”

“That I look like a… like a rabbit.”

Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled. Oh, now he really wanted to disappear, just sink into the mattress and vanishing from existence. He didn’t even have the courage to return her gaze as she made fun of his childishness.

“Rabbits are quite respectable creatures, if you ask me,” she responded. “There was this one book I would always read for the children I watched with rabbits in it. A lot of blood, as well. A lovely book and very respectable creatures. Yes, respectable creatures indeed. Some people even call them cute.”

Francis’ head rose from its hiding place.

“You just called me cute?”

Nanny Ashtoreth’s hand pressed against her own chest in a surprised and offended gesture.

“Oh, I’d never call anyone that. How condescending, don’t you think?”

“I understand…” He couldn’t disguise his disappointment.

“But if you mean ‘cute’ as in an aesthetically pleasing way… I suppose it isn’t such a bad adjective. I still prefer handsome, though.”

“You… you think I’m handsome?”

“Honestly, Francis, you need to wash your ears better or I’ll have to do it myself,” she frowned, leaving the bed and beginning to pick up her clothes. “I called you the exact same thing last night. Have you truly forgotten?”

Oh, right. She did call him that and he did hear her. It was more like he didn’t have time to give it a second thought, to even consider that it wasn’t just a throw-away word to call someone. It carried a meaning, a connotation and even though it wasn’t a secret that she wanted him…

“It’s the natural order of things, in my opinion,” she continued, buttoning up her blouse. “Cute is something you call an animal, if you’re that type. Children are lovely or wonderful or look just like their fathers. Men are handsome.”

Francis sat up, back to the bed head. He must be dreaming. There was a woman in his room who thought of him as a man. And a handsome one! The only reason why he didn’t stop to wonder if it was his birthday was because he knew it was yesterday. Otherwise, no one could tell.

“And what should a woman be called?” he asked before he could visualize the sentence in his mind.

Nanny Ashtoreth froze for a second, but kept getting dressed before it became too obvious, so focused in the task at hand someone could suspect she was trying to ignore something else.

“Well, it depends on the woman you’re referring to.”

“What should I call you?”

God, who was he and what had he done to himself? She looked like she was asking herself the same question.

“Nanny, of course,” she brushed it off, pulling her skirts up.

“That’s your name.”

“Nonsense. My name is Ashtoreth, but you’re not allowed to call me that.”

“Nanny…”

“What? Were you one of those children who thought their mother’s name was ‘mum’ or that teachers slept at school? Francis, please…”

“Alright, then…” he sighed. “What’s the most flattering thing you’ve ever been called?”

This time, she didn’t pretend it hadn’t gotten to her. If it wasn’t for how secured they already were around her waist, she would have dropped her skirts. Her tie was the next thing to put on and she barely made it to hold it before it flew from her grasp.

Slowly, under his mesmerized gaze, she sat on the edge of the bed and started searching for the answer. Her walls were up again, but when she spoke, there was nothing that could hold back so much vulnerability. It would have been clearer in someone else, of course, someone who wasn’t as in control over their emotions as her. Still…

“I believe…” She wetted her lips. “This one time you said… you said I was practically perfect in every way.”

Francis eyes widened, his blush deepening. Nanny Ashtoreth left the bed again, quickly tying her last garment around her neck.

“I haven’t thought about it too much, but now that you mention it… Yes, one could say that’s it. That’s the… the most flattering thing someone has ever told me. Ridiculous praise, of course. Hyperbolic, to say the least…”

“I meant it,” he smiled sincerely, “but that’s a bit too long, isn’t it?”

“We shall stick to Nanny, then,” she decided, grabbing her coat. “Now, I think you we should go back to the original purpose of this conversation as you get dressed.”

Francis didn’t agree with the first part of the plan, but put his undershirt, shirt and smock on anyway. He knew he couldn’t get away with this for much longer and he figured it was better to get it over with, once and for all.

“I’m just scared I’ll hurt you,” he lamented.

“Darling, if you were aware of half of the things I’ve done, you’ll understand as well as I do that you couldn’t hurt me _if you tried_.”

“I don’t want to try! That’s… that’s the thing, I don’t want to hurt you, even just a little. The thought alone…”

“And I’m telling you you won’t hurt me. At all. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

Already too tired to deal with him, she exhaled. He finally managed to tire her completely, uh? He saw the string, he knew the string was there, and he chose to pull as many times as he could till it gave up. He knew it would happen. He knew his baggage would eventually become too much for her.

Why shouldn’t it? After all, she was just a woman looking for a man on a dating app. Someone she could build a relationship with, as unconventional as it was. She didn’t want to become a therapist for some stranger. She didn’t want to spend her retirement babysitting yet another child. And after months of pulling, the string said no more.

Except it didn’t. Instead, Nanny Ashtoreth looked at him through her sunglasses and pouted.

“It’s nothing to worry about, dear. Your hands have proven to be good enough. But I do hope this isn’t another case of projecting your feelings on me. Because if I find out you weren’t really afraid you’d hurt me, that you just didn’t want to admit you had an insecurity and made it all about me again… I’m walking out that door and never coming back.”

Despite the severity of her words, she closed them with a smile.

“Now make the bed as I prepare our breakfast. No longer than ten minutes; you know I’m counting.”

“Yes, Nanny,” he nodded, feeling a bit better, although he wasn’t sure why.

“Oh, and another thing,” she said as he was fixing his smock.

He couldn’t even see what she was holding before she threw it at him. Francis almost dropped it when he realized it was her knickers.

“We ruined them again.”

Once she left the room, all he could do was fall on the bed and pray for God to give him the strength to deal with being wanted.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiddies intensify and Francis begins his epic quest to touch the kitty. A slight panic attack on this chapter's horizon, though, so please be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine how much better this fic could be if I actually read the chapters twice. Now imagine how upset I'd get if I went back to every single chapter and noticed how poorly written they all are? See my point? Glad we agree.
> 
> Also, just noticed in the last chapter's note I wrote "heart" instead of "head" and some of you might think I'm going through some existential crisis or something. I'm really not, it was just a headache and I'm feeling better. How fucking bad should I have felt to make that mistake lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

By the time of dinner, Francis had already taken care of his new old task. He tried to let her know as they ate, but she was quick to dismiss his interest.

“Not yet,” she said frankly, patting her mouth with a tissue. “I’ll let you know when.”

Francis couldn’t help but feeling a bit disappointed. Although he still wasn’t fully comfortable with certain parts of the human body —particularly hers—, he was ready and proud of the contrast between now and the first time they did it. However, he respected her wishes, both for the sake of respecting her and the security she had something better planned.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait too long. Right before the time he turned off the television and went to bed, she called.

“Dear, could you come here, please?”

It was interesting how she never truly shouted yet he still could hear her perfectly no matter at what spot of the house he was. As usual, Francis was too focused on following her orders to notice, getting up from the couch and rushing to her bedroom, where she told him to be.

When she opened the door, the sight of her naked almost threw him against the wall behind him. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped and she was quick to close the door again.

“Take a deep breath, dear,” she guided him. “When you’re ready… _If_ you’re ready.”

Francis did as he was told and nervously realized he was. With sweaty palms, he reached out for the doorknob and turned it, pushing forwards. There she was once more, naked and standing right in front of him, with absolute indifference and deep concern for his well-being, all at the same time.

“Come in, darling.”

He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. Suddenly remembering what he was supposed to do, he reached inside his pocket and took out the pair of clean knickers, prepared to finish his mission. She indicated with a movement of her hand that it was not the moment.

“Do you remember our safeword?”

The mention of it caught him off guard. Of course he remembered, how could he forget? But they’ve never used it before and he was almost certain she herself had forgotten it existed. He nodded.

“Can you say it for me?”

For a second, he feared it might stop it all, even when she made it clear she was just testing him.

“Antichrist,” he gulped.

Nanny Ashtoreth seemed pleased.

“Alright, dear. I want to try something new and I want you to use it whenever you feel we’re crossing a line, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, before he could even process what she was saying.

Something new? What kind of new thing could she be referring to? The fact it was boundary-pushing enough to make her warn him about it couldn’t be a good sign…

“Now,” she proceeded, “you’ll give me my underwear back as expected… _but_ you might only use your mouth, understood?”

Francis gulped.

“S-sorry, you want me to do what?”

Nanny Ashtoreth crossed her arms over her chest.

“I think I’ve explained myself quite nicely.” A pause, her features softened. “But you don’t have to agree, of course. We can do it the classic way, if you’d prefer.”

Francis looked down to the silky fabric in his hand and pictured himself doing what she was asking for with it. He had no clue how something like that would work, but he didn’t find the idea appalling either.

“You’ll use the word if I hurt you, won’t you?” he asked in a thin voice.

His question seemed to take her by surprise. Even though she tried to hide it, her immediate reaction was obvious. After recovering —at an overwhelming speed Francis couldn’t admire more—, she cleared her throat and smiled.

“Of course, dear… Now get to it.”

Reluctantly nodding, he kneeled and got closer to her, keeping eye contact at all moments. He doubted even more as he trapped the knickers between his teeth and her hand gently found his hair, giving it an equally gentle tug to force his head closer to the ground.

It wasn’t as simple as he expected, if he ever expected it to be simple at all. She raised her right foot and pushed it through the hole in a rather easy movement, but when he had to stretch the garment towards her left foot, he had to relocate his mouth three times before making it. Then, he returned to the middle of the waistline and pulled up. He didn’t go fast, partly because he wasn’t so talented and partly because he didn’t know what he’d do when he made it to the… end of the road, putting it in more civil terms.

But he couldn’t prolong it forever. Soon he passed her calves, her knees and, finally, her thighs. The tip of his nose brushed lightly against the line between her lips and her bush for a second, more than enough to catch the wetness and the once unknown scent of her arousal. He accelerated from there and soon the knickers were where they should go, perhaps a bit sooner than they wanted.

“Well done, sweetheart,” she praised, pushing him upwards by the shoulders to kiss his mouth. “You did an amazing job.”

She continued to kiss him and he felt like he could melt into her embrace. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist and she stopped everything.

“I said nothing but mouth,” she reproved, pushing him away and going to the bed.

Francis stared in awe and terror as she laid at the centre of the mattress, her back against the headboard, her legs spreading. She indicated him to get closer moving her index finger and so he did, using his hands to support his weight as he crawled towards her face, making sure not to touch her.

“That’s right, darling, you may use your hands and arms to keep yourself in place,” she said, looking into his eyes. “But if you lay one single finger on me, we’re done, understood?”

He nodded.

“Our safeword is antichrist,” she repeated before giving him total freedom… with its limitations.

The first thing Francis did was putting his lips on hers. It was the only part of her his mouth had ever touched, so he felt fairly confident about what he was capable of doing there. However, there was a key different between this and the stuff they had done previously. The previous times, Nanny Ashtoreth did the job practically on her own, controlling the pace, pressure and intensity of the kiss. Now, she wasn’t doing anything aside from replicating his own actions.

If Francis used tongue, she did. If he didn’t, she didn’t. It made a huge difference because Francis wasn’t usually the one to initiate nor escalate things, so he wasn’t sure when and what was too much and what wasn’t enough, both for her and him. Especially her. He was certain of everything he wanted, but he was also too much of a coward to go for it.

A few minutes later, her hands found his shoulders and forced him a bit downwards, to her neck. He kissed her there, too. It couldn’t be such a change, right? It was skin, like the one on her face. She didn’t make those noises when he kissed her cheek, though.

He licked her neck because he figured she’d enjoy it. He enjoyed to have it done to him, so… Then, his mouth slid towards her collarbone without his permission. He attempted to lick there as well, seeing as it was well-received before. He kept his tongue as far from the rest of his mouth as he could, but nothing could be done when she pushed him in, making him suck on her already flushing skin. She gasped and he tried to pull away, afraid he might had hurt her.

“That was not pain,” she sighed, to his relief.

Now he was on her chest, right between her breasts. Oh, how he wished he could touch them, just… put his hands there and massage, like he always did. She liked it, too. She loved it. Why wouldn’t she let him do that now, if it was something they both were happy with? Francis recalled he was allowed to use their safeword, he was allowed to call the whole thing off… and he understood that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to keep going.

If you asked him about the exact point when his lips closed around her right nipple, he wouldn’t know what to tell you. It just happened, automatic and necessary as breathing, as an unavoidable consequence. He became aware it for a second and thought about stopping, checking if she was okay, if he was harming her in some imperceptible way. But her hands were on his hair, her breathe was quickening and her voice released soft words of encouragement from time to time.

You’re doing great. You’re doing great. You’re doing great. That was she was saying and that was what he chose to believe. His tongue caressed the hardened bud, her lips sucking on the areola surrounding it. Not too rough, but not too gentle. Making his way through the darkness, with only the sounds he was learning to decode as his guide, he kept everything in that sweet spot that had her sighing and gasping and even moaning. He didn’t even question himself before traveling to her left nipple, never breaking contact with her warm skin, never taking his eyes away from hers, waiting for them to say no faster than she could ever conjure up the courage to say it herself.

Francis was painfully convinced she’d never dare to do it, no matter how mature or in control she presented herself as. It was beyond her power, just like his own insecurities were beyond his. He was just beginning to overcome them and even though she’d had longer to do the same with hers, his hopes for her to have done that were just that: hopes.

After a while, unsure of who started the descent and who obliged, his mouth moved downwards, not sliding anymore, but pressing light, innocent kisses all along the imaginary line that crossed her middle. He could swear he heard her giggle when he reached her navel, but of course he wouldn’t comment on that. He valued what they had now much more than an easy laugh or risking making her uncomfortable.

His lips kept touching down the curve of her belly and at this point, it was obvious they were approaching a dangerous territory. Francis didn’t care anymore. As long as her safety and pleasure was guaranteed, he thought he could do anything. However, the edge of her knickers announced there was nowhere to go unless they took it one step further.

He looked up at her and she stared back, stern and expectant, ready to move them forwards or end it all.

“More?” she whispered.

Francis was barely capable of articulating a ‘yes’ in the form of a small nod. Her hands came on sight, fingers hooking at the sides of her underwear and pushing them slightly downwards, revealing nothing but a few millimetres of previously hidden skin.

Francis pressed a new peck there and looked back up.

“More?” Her breath was growing quicker, though she tried to dissimulate it by clearing her throat.

Another nod and another pull. The first dark red curls beginning to peak out. And, of course, another kiss.

“More?”

Did she really expect him to say no? This time, she pulled a bit farther. Just one more push like that and she’d be completely exposed, Francis couldn’t help but thinking. When the usual kiss arrived, her hairs tickled him in a way that didn’t have any right to be so arousing and she gasped as his chin accidentally rubbed against her.

“More?”

He sighed before nodding now. He knew what was coming and couldn’t assure he’d like it. It’d be the first time he saw one up close and from such a direct angle, and he was used to hear people —especially men— going on rants about how gross they were and how lucky the ones who had them were for the existence of men and women who enjoyed them.

But the more he thought about it, the more he came back to the fact it was impossible for him not to like her. She was beautiful in every way, even the ones that contradicted what everyone said, and the part of her meant to bring her and the ones she’d share herself with pleasure wouldn’t be an exemption. The reality was that it terrified him, that he didn’t know what to do with it, that he was afraid of ruining everything… and he still wanted to see.

The way she didn’t uncover it completely was on the verge of being disappointing. She pulled her underwear down through such a short distance this time, the only new revelation was the most insignificant portion of her slit, which someone could easily confuse with something else if they squinted their eyes, like some sort of optical illusion.

Quickly, Francis shook these thoughts away and went back to what he was supposed to do, moving his face downwards as he had been for what felt like years. He gave that tiny portion of slit a peck, superficial and gentle, even though his whole body begged him to use his tongue. He wouldn’t dare. He wasn’t ready.

“More?”

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready.

His heart started pounding.

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready.

His mind went blank.

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready.

His head grew lighter.

No. No. No. He definitely wasn’t ready.

It was hard to breathe… it was hard to breathe…

“Antichrist.”

Wait… did he say that? Did he use the word? He didn’t remember. That didn’t sound like his voice at all. Were those his hands pulling him up against her, to the level of her face? No, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t allowed to use them.

“That was lovely,” Nanny Ashtoreth smiled against his ear, giving a chaste kiss to its lobe. “We’re done for tonight, aren’t we?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, though he wasn’t crying. That sure was a change.

“There is no need. You did a great job and I enjoyed it immensely. Thank you.”

“No… thank you…”

She chuckled and moved him to the empty side of the bed, still keeping her arms around him. That was when he saw them… the bruises all over her chest.

“I hurt you,” he tried to exclaim, but it came as a mortified gasp.

Nanny Ashtoreth seemed confused for a second, till she noticed what he meant and laughed, resting a hand on his cheek.

“No, darling, it’s okay. I enjoyed it.”

“But I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do it. I can’t control… I have no control over that, do I? I could hurt you at any time and—”

“But you didn’t. I like that and I would have told you if it became—”

“That’s not the point,” he choked out, eyes watering.

Nanny Ashtoreth went silent, serious.

“Dear, the point is you didn’t. And if you did rough me up a little, it was because I intended you to. I understand you don’t realize, but I truly had a lot more power over the way you did it than you think. I can let you do all the job and keep still next time if seeing how you would have performed without my influence would help, but believe me when I say I wasn’t in pain at all.”

“You’re… you’re not in pain now?”

“Not even a hint of pain.”

Francis was still reluctant.

“Listen here, darling, I’ll ask you a question… If I, at any moment, used our safeword, would you have stopped?”

“O-of course!” he replied, a bit scandalized.

“That’s all that matters.”

She sealed that with a short, sweet kissed and turned around to get something from her nightstand.

“Here.” She showed him a bottle of what should be —as far as Francis knew—some type of healing cream. “I don’t need it, but perhaps it’ll help you feel better about this.”

Francis remained still.

“You may use your hands now.”

Seconds later, as goose bumps bloomed on her skin as he gently rubbed the cream on her bruised chest, Francis paid attention to any sign of pain and found none. The chance of him being able not to hurt her, not even by accident, made him beyond excited and even though he wasn’t ready for anything else, he also couldn’t wait to see where this new discovery would take them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis' effing with some wet ass p-word. Meanwhile, author's effing with some weak ass adverbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I no longer reply to comments. It makes me extremely anxious, even if they're nice (y'all are so nice! love ya!). I know it makes no sense, but it does. I still might reply to some, but replying to everything is too much, I'm so sorry. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter

They were a month into fall season when Francis got to see her naked again. She wouldn’t have denied him the chance if he had asked for it, but it was actually him who didn’t feel prepared for that. Nanny Ashtoreth neither pressured him nor seemed to mind too much, continuing with their daily routine in the most natural of fashions.

That till enough time passed for him to almost put the incident behind him. Although she didn’t have a way to know this, she must have figured they’d eventually move forward. That morning of late October, after breakfast but before they went to buy sweets for the children who would inevitably come to their house on Halloween, she estimated it was a good moment to test the waters.

“Would you like to try again?” she asked, finishing her cup of tea.

Francis blinked, still on his own chair, swallowing the last bite of a muffin.

“What… what do you mean, dearie?”

“Sorry, I should have been more specific,” she apologized sincerely, patting the corner of her mouth with a tissue. “I mean what we did at the end of summer. You performing oral stimulation on my tits.”

How did she manage to make the word ‘tits’ sound even more dirty surrounding by technical terminology? Francis choke on his own spit.

“Oh, that…”

“Well, would you be interested in trying it again? And don’t think for a second about lying to me,” she added, right before he thought for a second about lying.

He lowered his gaze.

“I really want to, it’s just… Um, I’m scared. I… I bruised you.”

Nanny Ashtoreth couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“Darling, I told you, those weren’t actual bruises. Not the ones that hurt.”

“With all due respect, I might not know a lot about derma-… dermatolo-… Bruises, but those looked pretty bad to me.”

“Oh, not at all. Look, they’re already gone.”

To prove her point, she stood up and in a matter of seconds, her coat and blouse fell off her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her skin was as clear as always, with the already known freckles and nothing else.

“See? Not the slightest shade of purple on sight.”

Francis took his eyes away from her bare chest when she spoke, making her chuckle again. Of course he was allowed to look, that was the point, yet it somehow felt like a bad thing to be caught doing. However, what mattered the most was that now, he was certain he hadn’t hurt her. Not what he needed, but still a comforting thought.

“So,” Her hand landed on his shoulder, “if I suggested we gave it another try and I promised not to interfere, would you be amenable?”

“You… you mean now?” he choked out, though his head was already nodding.

Nanny Ashtoreth wrinkled her nose.

“Here in our own kitchen? While it’s filled to the brim by dirty dishes?” she said, picking up her clothes and putting them back on just as fast as she had taken them off. “For someone’s sake, Francis, save some decency for when we reach the cunnilingus phase, won’t you?”

With those words said, she left him alone.

“Is… is that a new thing the youngsters are doing these days?” he reluctantly shouted, but she couldn’t hear him anymore.

* * *

It was the night after Halloween when they finally acted on what was already discussed. Even though Francis wasn’t sure of the reason why, he figured it had something to do with how the holiday demanded a lot of their attention —oh, if his mother saw him taking part in such a decadent tradition…— and her giving him a rest before they properly jumped into anything.

The wait felt almost too long, as ridiculous as it might sound since they haven’t done anything especially sexual in a much longer while, but one thing was for sure: when she promised she wouldn’t interfere, she meant it. Since the moment she took her clothes off and he shut the door, she didn’t do anything else than laying completely still on his bed —her bedroom was off-limits now, apparently; the fact they used it once seemed to be a mistake—, occasionally running her fingers through his hair as he worked and mumbling words of encouragement.

Francis was happy to be the one in charge, in a manner of speaking —he knew better than truly believing he had taken the wheel; what he was actually doing was more like politely pointing at the best route as they both pretended she wasn’t the one driving—. It didn’t matter that the bruises he left the first time didn’t hurt; he didn’t mean to leave them and the idea of being at the mercy of accident scared.

He much preferred this: gently kissing and licking and rubbing loving circles with the hands he was now allowed to use. And she enjoyed it, as well. So, what if it didn’t feel as overwhelmingly great as doing things her way? Why did sex and everything related to it have to be so intense all the time? Couldn’t they have nice, soft sessions like this? They weren’t teenagers, thank God! Adults didn’t have the same urges. Not after fifty, at least.

Oh, no, he was getting in his own head. He was doubly getting in his own head for even noticing he was. If he didn’t change his train of thoughts soon, he couldn’t keep doing the probably average job he was and Nanny Ashtoreth would be so disappointed. He needed a distraction like… like a weird, wet noise coming from beyond his line of vision. Yes, just that. Just… Wait, was it that?

“Are you okay?” he said way too loud, quickly pulling up from her chest to look at her.

She did look okay… by some standards. Her face was red, her lips were parted and her eyelids were heavy. She was beautiful, but that was everyday stuff when it came to her. She could be sick. She could be in pain. She…

“I’m great, darling, you keep going,” she panted.

“But—” He interrupted himself once his eyes travelled briefly to the other side of the room, to the lower side of the bed. “Oh,” he gulped after realizing what she was doing, where her left hand was. “You are touching your… eh, down there…”

Nanny Ashtoreth couldn’t hold back a roll of her eyes.

“ _Down there_. Francis, I swear, you sound like a tampons commercial, and let me tell you, if there is something I don’t want to hear seven years after I bled for the last time is—”

“I’m sorry.”

A fond smile escaped her lips as her free hand caressed the side of his face. The noises hadn’t stopped.

“It’s alright, darling, I didn’t mean to upset you. Now, if you’d be so kind…”

She gestured to her chest, but Francis was incapable of obeying, his gaze still fixed on the place where her fingers kept moving. He looked back to her, just when she did something she probably liked a lot, judging by the sound that left her mouth.

“Um… enjoying yourself?”

“Well, I could be enjoying myself more if I…” She didn’t finish the snarky comment, suddenly noticing that that wasn’t an attempt at small talk. Francis was trying to say something, even if he himself didn’t understand what. “Would you like to touch it?”

He froze.

“You’ve never done that, have you?”

He shook his head.

“Have you ever seen one? Even if it was just a science diagram?”

“Very… Um, very old science diagrams, to be honest.”

The corners of her mouth raised again.

“They haven’t changed much over time.”

Her right hand took hold of his, but it didn’t pushed him towards the place becoming the protagonist of their conversation. Knowing she wouldn’t do such thing without his approval, Francis could let go of all the air he’d been holding back. Her thumb rubbed over his knuckles in a reassuring touch.

“I realize they might seem a bit intimidating,” she continued. “But science diagrams are just for general orientation. I’ve seen some of the… let’s say, least conventionally attractive ones, and none of them has been as bad as society likes to make them sound.”

Francis didn’t dare to ask about it. He didn’t particularly care about her sexual history —and if he did care, it’d just make it all worse— and he was mostly glad she had went through experiences that taught her how to have a better time. Now that she was choosing him and intended them to spend an indefinite amount of time together, she’d have to do a lot for herself. He just wasn’t…

“Here,” she called his attention, pulling her hand from under her knickers up to their sight-level. Her fingers were slick. “Nothing that produces such works of art can be that terrible.”

He watched, mesmerized, eyes wide open, as her index and thumb parted and joined, a string of slick stretching between them. He searched for her gaze, confused and nervous and feeling something he couldn’t define.

“Have you ever… um, I’m not sure how to put it… tasted it?”

Nanny Ashtoreth had to physically stop herself from laughing, biting her lower lip till she had it under control.

“Now we’re asking the real questions, aren’t we?” she joked. “Yes, I have.”

“How… Is it… How does it taste?”

“Well, it varies from person to person. Most people agree on it being a bit acid and—”

“How do you taste?” He narrowed it.

Nanny Ashtoreth grinned at him.

“I suppose we’re lucky we have a free sample right here.”

With no further ado, she brought her fingers up to his mouth and he took them in, closing his eyes, running his tongue over them in an effort to not miss one single drop.

She was right; it was acid, but just a hint. The primary flavours were trapped between sweetness and saltiness, an incoherent mix that didn’t have any right to be quite so delightful. Now he understood. Now he didn’t understand why anyone would find it to be an unpleasant thing to taste, to the point of leaving their partner unattended in order to avoid it.

But the best part of it all, was knowing it came from her, from her very centre, the sacred place where every nice sensation concentrated. And it meant she was feeling pleasure and he was the one inspiring it. And… and it was over.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, pulling her digits out his mouth.

Francis was speechless.

“Oh, it’s… it’s lovely, dearie…” A worry bloomed at the back of his mind. “But is… is it healthy for it to be so… um, abundant? ’Cause I’ve heard too much could be a medical condition and Americans are even making songs about it and—”

“Francis, of course it’s not a health problem. Furthermore, it’s a good thing. Believe me, you can’t ever get enough lubrication.” She took a few seconds to think. “Darling, how much sexual education did you get back in school? Or from your parents?”

He felt heat pooling on his cheeks.

“Um, well… not a lot, if you want me to be frank. I never met my father and my mother didn’t like to talk about those things. Nobody did, in my hometown. Teachers mentioned unwanted pregnancies and some diseases and…”

“And you didn’t know vaginas were supposed to self-lubricate.”

“It’s not that I didn’t know that, I… I most certainly did. I…” He shrugged. “I don’t really know what you want me to say. I do understand some stuff, but it wasn’t ’cause of my upbringing. Those diagrams I mentioned, they actually weren’t given to me, I just… I visited a library when I was… thirty, perhaps, and it’s not like I meant to do a wrong thing, I was just curious and… and I probably wouldn’t ever see one, so… what harm could it…”

The words were extinguished by his own inability to keep them going, but Nanny Ashtoreth simply nod as he was making all the sense in the world.

“Well, you don’t have to do that anymore, dear,” she comforted him, guiding his hand downwards. “It’s a shame no one gave you this kind of information. I had to figure a lot out myself, too. But don’t worry, we’ll give you a quick summary.”

He almost pulled his hand away, until he noticed she wasn’t planning to let it go inside her underwear. Instead, she made it rest over it, cupping the whole area, letting him feel just how wet she truly was. Her knickers were so soaked he could distinguish every single curl through them.

“This is a vulva,” she explained. “Let me catch you calling it vagina and this will be the last time you touch it.”

He nodded. He remembered reading something similar somewhere and he wouldn’t want to risk it, so it was all he could do. Patient, Nanny Ashtoreth got her index and middle fingers between his and parted them, softly forcing them to slide up and down the sides of her sex.

“This is the outer labia.”

“Oh…” he sighed. “It’s… it’s nicely plush, isn’t it?”

“Not always, but mine is.”

“I like it.”

“Good.”

His fingers were brought to the middle again, moister and warmer than everything he had already touched. The lines were perfectly defined and he became aware of every valley, curve and hollow there. It wasn’t long before his index brushed against a protuberance that made her jump a little.

“Everything’s alright?” he asked, worried.

“Absolutely, darling, you just rang the devil’s doorbell a little.”

“Oh, no…” He tried to get away, but she held him closer.

“No, no, Francis, don’t worry, I’m just playing. That’s my clit.”

“Your… clit…”

“Yes. You know what a clit is, don’t you?” she lowered her voice. “It’s a little spot you can touch if you want to make your partner feel really good. But you must be gentle at the start, you have to befriend him first.”

“I see…”

He heard about that, too. Some women complained their husbands and boyfriends couldn’t find it. What a nice surprise to realize it wasn’t his case, although he did have help to do it…

“We should continue,” she suggested. “And a little lower, it’s…” She accompanied the sentence with a new push downwards, this time looking for something. “This.”

She positioned his index at first and softly tapped his knuckle. Francis felt the fabric under his fingertip sink a bit.

“Your…” he began, shocked.

“My hole, that’s it,” she congratulated him. “And that’s what the vagina actually is. Just the insides.”

“I… I see…”

“I can’t show you with my knickers in the way, though.”

Francis gave her a troubled look and she kissed the tip of his nose.

“It also feels good like this… but you can push them aside if you think you’d like that.”

“No, no, I mean, yes, it’s… It’s fine, let’s do…” A cough. “Let’s do that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please don’t make me say it twice,” he begged, eyes closing in desperation and shame.

Trusting him with his own wishes —which he deeply appreciated—, she moved both their hands upwards, this time to the edge of her underwear. And then she slid them in, hers covering his, all the way back to the spot they were touching a moment ago.

Francis’ breath hitched for an instant as all barriers between his fingers and her entrance were taken down. He didn’t want to go right in —he was certain he had to do something sexually active people called ‘teasing’—, but she had different ideas. Soon, her warmth and pressure surrounded him, practically sucking him in as she focused on the outside.

“Oh, you’re… so very tight, my dear. I didn’t expect you to be this tight,” he managed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she replied, though it was clear she wasn’t offended. “Hook them a little, there’s a love. You can be a bit rougher if you want.”

“Are you sure that’d be a—”

“I want you to.” She stared at him seriously.

Who was him to deny her? At the start he had feared his hands were too callous and clumsy to please her. If there was something he knew about vulvas, vaginas and all the other stuff going on down there, was that they were delicate. Nanny Ashtoreth was an experienced woman who had probably met several tough partners in her life, but Francis didn’t wish to become one of them. He didn’t care how unlikely it was for him to cause her pain; he’d rather die than letting that happen.

“Do you want me to touch your—”

“No, no, sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s been a while since someone else touched it and I’d prefer to do it myself.”

“Okay.”

He emphasised his answer with a peck on her cheek that made her giggle, although she’d never admit it. Making her giggle was almost as good as making her moan.

Oh, and did she moan. Francis wouldn’t have believed anyone who told him she was this loud if he hadn’t heard it. And he wasn’t a violent man, but he even would have gone as far as punching that person for daring to disrespect her like that. That was a different story, though.

The contrast between this and the put-together image of herself she projected all the time was almost too much to handle. It should be such a mortifying amount of vulnerability to let him see her like this, he was sure. Right now, however, he could only think about how lovely she sounded and looked and felt, clenching around his fingers like her whole life depended on it.

“You… you got tighter,” he gasped after a few minutes.

“Mhm,” she confirmed, too far gone to be coherent, aggressively rubbing her clit despite how sensitive she said it was. She looked at him through heavy lashes and left out a shaky sigh. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“I… You’re…”

She nodded again.

“Climax? Is that… is that your climax?” he smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Not yet, but soon, my dear… Very, very soon…”

“How can I help?”

Another moan, even louder than the ones before it. It was a miracle it didn’t make Francis jump out his skin. God’s sake, it was a miracle it didn’t make him stop thrusting his fingers in and out of her as she had demanded at some point.

“Just sit there and look pretty and… and…” A new moan, followed by a breathy whisper: “ _Oh, fuck me…_ ”

She didn’t mean it. No, she did mean it, that was clear, but she didn’t expect it. Francis understood she’d never force anything past his boundaries without warning in the heat of the moment, just like he understood her need to express her wishes, more for herself rather than him. How funny; he spent months being afraid of those words, and now that she said them they couldn’t be farther from upsetting him.

Her free arm wrapped itself around his, hand clenching to the sleeve of his shirt like her inner walls clenched to his digits, more often and more intense each time, till the suddenly rare normal level of pressure started to feel like not enough. Everything felt like not enough as she kept moaning, the speed of both their caresses increasing, her melting voice repeating that infernal request like a mantra, growing higher and more desperate with every reiteration.

“ _Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…_ ”

‘I’m fucking you’, he wished he could say. The fact it’d be a lie was irrelevant, they both were aware of what they were doing and what not. It was, much like everything that preceded it, an indulgent use of the imagination and the humble base they had to build on towards her orgasm. But he wasn’t that brave, that dirty, that… that good at this. Not as good as her. The day he finally felt allowed to pronounce those words, would be when he finally was inside her, not an instant before.

And suddenly he was thinking about fucking her. In the biblical sense. And did he really say ‘fuck’ in his mind? And shouldn’t be the world ending by now? And…

“ _Ngk!_ ”

Her climax was almost… Well, anticlimactic. Not in the sense that it felt faked or underwhelming —that last clench certainly wasn’t—, but in comparison to the way she was acting as she reached it, it came out rather quiet. Francis was focused on his task and as soon as he noticed, he returned his eyes to her face and before he knew she was already coming down, collapsing against the mattress in a slowing cloud of pants.

Endearing and —God forbid him from ever saying that out loud— cute.

Francis pulled his hand out her knickers and licked it clean in a way that didn’t intend to be sexy or anything remotely like that. He just wanted to taste her again. Jesus, he wanted to taste her always.

While she recovered, he took a good look at her and his heart broke a little.

Back when he was a lot younger and a whole lot more naïve, he liked to imagine the day he got married and his wedding night. Not in a sexual way —not fully, at least—, but in a sort of hopefulness, of profound excitement for the wonderful future everyone promised him. He dreamed and dreamed about that moment right after it was over, the moment when he would look down at his wife to see if she was okay.

He would have been such a gentleman, asking her if it hurt, if she needed anything, if it was as good as she hoped it’d be. He’d even offer to bring her a glass of water, although room service would have closed hours ago. But most of all, he pictured her face, exhausted and blessed, flushed and framed by her hair, spreading all over the pillow. They would have smiled at each other and know, not with sadness for what they lost but happiness for what they gained, that they were no longer a boy and a girl, and they stopped being it together.

Nanny Ashtoreth was a woman. She had been for a very long time and that transformation had nothing to do with Francis. But she saw him as a man, too, and that had nothing to do with anybody. They didn’t become anything new together, they weren’t relevant to any sort of metamorphosis.

Yet right there, right now, looking at her, nothing came to Francis’ mind aside from the feeling that she was the wife he had always hoped for until he gave up.

And the thought scared him so much there was nothing left to do but kissing her. Pressing a kiss against her trembling lips, salted by sweat, and leaving her.

What else, if not that?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one after the one I literally forgot in which room they were but it turned out better. Wank talk, but make it emotional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I hope this chapter is alright. My ovaries are killing me, I had to go to vote this morning and I'm honestly so tired. Thank y'all so much for your lovely comments <3

Sometime between midnight and sunrise, Francis was woken up by the noise of his old television being turned off —it made more sense in his head— and a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. The last thing he remembered was sitting down on the couch to watch some late night show he didn’t fully understand. And before that… oh, that…

“Wake up, dear, it’s time to go to bed,” a soft voice called, taking his hand and forcing him to stand up, ever so gradually.

Francis groaned as he rubbed his half-open eyes, but he still let himself be guided through the hallway and into his bedroom. Once his vision got used to the absent light of consciousness, he saw Nanny Ashtoreth already in her nightgown and robe, helping him out of his shoes and clothes and into his pyjamas and bed.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d let you sleep on the couch, you silly man,” she shook her head, fixing the pillow under his and making sure he was properly covered by the sheets. “Leaving me your bed as if I didn’t have my own. How does that make sense to you?”

“ _Mmmyoulookedtired…_ ” he hummed, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth and comfort of the mattress and covers. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Bother me,” she huffed. “As if you could do anything to…” And she stopped midsentence. “Goodnight, dear.”

Before Francis could insist on his absurd act of kindness, she kissed his forehead and left, though he was almost certain she wasn’t in a hurry.

* * *

Exactly two weeks later, when everything had settled down to its normal estate and Francis was no longer obsessing over the fact he made a woman orgasm, they were walking through the forest arm in arm and Nanny Ashtoreth suddenly spoke.

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” he said without putting too much thought into it, waving a squirrel that ran across them goodbye.

“Do you ever masturbate?”

Even the squirrel seemed to freeze at that, but Francis stayed frozen several seconds after the animal was already climbing trees again.

“You… you mean as in…” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, “touching my… _penis_?”

“That’s a way to do it.”

“There’s more?”

Nanny Ashtoreth couldn’t repress a chuckle. However, her face quickly recovered its seriousness and now they were standing right in front of each other, not a single attempt to continue their walk.

“I haven’t,” he confessed at last. “I mean, I don’t…”

“You’ve never tried it,” she reasoned.

Francis looked down.

“I think you should.”

That was it, the end of the conversation. With that said, she took hold of his arm again and they kept walking like nobody mentioned anything remotely sexual. Nanny Ashtoreth was very genuine about that, calling his attention to a particularly uncommon bird she knew he enjoyed seeing, deciding she expressed everything she needed to express and no more words about it were required.

Francis, on the other hand, wasn’t done.

“You think I should… _masturbate_.”

“Oh, you make it sound so dirty,” she frowned. “But yes, that’s more or less what I said.”

“I see…” A pause. “Why do you think that?”

“I just think it’d be good for you.”

“In which way?”

“Sexual, of course.” She finally looked back at him. “Why are you being so strange about it?”

“I-I am not!” he panicked.

“Nobody is attacking you.”

“I know!”

“Then what’s wrong? Oh, look, mushrooms, you could prepare a mushroom soup tonight. You’re good at…” She let go of his arm once more, raising her skirts a bit to rush to the alleged mushrooms growing under a tree, until she realized he wasn’t following her. She sighed, returning to him. “No, I’m being insensitive now. This is not an easy topic for you.”

Francis shook his head, eyes tightly closed, irritated by the urge to cry.

“I’m sorry…” he sobbed quietly.

“None of that, dear.” She caressed his cheek. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I just…” She suddenly seemed incapable of finding the right thing to say, both frustrated and disconcerted at the same time, though he knew it wasn’t his fault and she would have made it clear if the doubt arose. “I don’t know how to act around you. I don’t know how to…”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, sincere and from an empathetic place, rather than one of putting the blame on himself.

“It has nothing to do with you,” she reassured him, turning her back to him while trying to put her thoughts in order. “It never happened before. I’ve never met someone quite like you. Submissive men? Of course, but they were different. They begged and teased and wanted to be punished, this is not—”

“Maybe I’m not the right partner for you.”

Nanny Ashtoreth stopped and turned around as the sentence floated between them, landing over the autumn leaves. Even with her glasses in the way it was obvious her eyes were wide open and her lips separated a bit in utter surprise and a hint of fear. Francis almost felt bad for upsetting her, but his speculation was honest, no matter how much it pained him. They had to be open now or they’d end up really hurting themselves.

The response came too many seconds later.

“No, no, of course that’s not the case, darling,” she replied emphatically, her hand holding his. “I told you, this has nothing to do with you…”

“I’m not saying I’m in the wrong, I’m saying maybe—”

“Absolutely not, Francis. I won’t let you doubt yourself like this. Just because—”

“Please just listen to what I said!” he pleaded, tears falling down his cheeks.

“I’m listening, Francis. I truly am.” She used her thumb to wipe them away. “But here’s the thing, I knew what I was getting myself into. It was all very clear from the start, you didn’t manipulate me into a relationship I wouldn’t want any other way.”

“I know, but… what if the real thing is not the same? What if you thought you could handle it but now you don’t like it anymore and you don’t want to admit it? I don’t mean to call you a liar, but—”

“Silly, it’s been almost a year since I came here. If I didn’t enjoy it, I would have left months ago.” She put her hands at both sides of his face to make him look up. “And things aren’t exactly the same as they were when I arrived. You have made progress, we’re working towards something…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she smiled. “You did mention you weren’t ready for oral or manual stimulation back then, though you weren’t opposed. Now we’re getting there.”

Francis exhaled a long sigh as he collapsed against her chest, hiding his face there with her arms wrapped around him.

“I’ll never make love to you the way you want me to,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay.”

His crying was evident by now, beyond his control under the warmth and resignation of her embrace.

“The way you deserve,” he corrected himself.

“No one deserves to be penetrated; it’s not a human right, my darling,” she chuckled. “We’ll be fine.”

“Will we?”

“When haven’t we?” She gently pushed him away, still holding him. “Francis, I’m not the kind of person who jumps into something they expect to change significantly. I guarantee you I don’t spend every minute of my day hoping for you to grow out of your boundaries. It doesn’t work like that, or at least it shouldn’t.”

“But what if you get tired of me?”

“Then I’ll leave. We’re both allowed to do that, you know? We’re under no obligation here.” His alarmed expression prompted her to add something she probably had been holding in for a while. “Want to know a secret?” He nodded. “I’m actually terrified you’ll get tired of me.”

Francis choked.

“Y-you are what?”

“Terrified,” she spoke simply. “In deep and constant terror. Absolute fear that you’ll wake up someday and decide you don’t want me anymore. Which, of course, would be fine and I’ll have to accept it, but—”

“Why would I…? Why would I get tired of you? Why you’d think that?”

“Because I don’t have much to offer.”

“Oh, dearie, you keep saying these things like they make it clearer when they only make it even more confusing.”

“I’m very sorry I’m not being as eloquent as you need me to—”

“No, no, no, you don’t get it. It’s… what do you mean you don’t have much to offer? You have everything to offer. You are… _everything_.”

“I don’t give you anything a housekeeper couldn’t give you.”

“That’s not true!” he exploded, desperate. “You give me so many things and… and I thought this wasn’t your first time doing something like this. Didn’t you mention you’ve had other… p-partners?”

“Well, certainly, but those were different, forgive my redundancy.”

“In which way?”

“For starters, they’d let me provide sexual gratification in return for the one they gave me.”

“But, darling, you gratify me a lot.”

“Not sexually.”

“Dear, that’s not your—”

“I realize it doesn’t make any sense. And the last thing I want is for you to think you owe me something, especially in the sexual aspect. But I can’t help feeling like this from time to time and it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just the first time I make it this far into a dominant/submissive relationship without touching someone’s genitals and I believed for far too long that that was the only thing I truly had going my way.”

Francis was speechless. How could she keep a normal voice while showing so much vulnerability? Not even a crack? For a moment, Francis could only admire her strength and wish he himself had it, but when his surprise ceased, everything that came to his mind was holding her.

“That’s not true,” he reiterated, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, cheek resting against her shoulder. “That’s not true, Ashtoreth, it’s not.”

If she cared about the use of her legal name at all, she wasn’t in the position of calling him out on it. She just let herself be held and he kept talking.

“You don’t have to gratify me, whatever that means. You don’t have to cook or clean or help me with the garden. You don’t have to do anything.”

“You don’t have to do anything, either.”

They broke apart.

“I’m not against, um… masturbation, let’s say. I used to be, but I’m not against it anymore. It’s just… I’m not sure how it works.”

The corners of her mouth lifted.

“You’ll figure it out like everyone else,” she promised. “But I do hope this sudden interest in masturbation doesn’t come from a place of complying with my frankly nonsensical feelings. Because if that’s the case—”

“It’s not the case,” he interrupted. “I do think you’re right, dear. Maybe it’s something I should try. Maybe it’d help me. Now, this…” He reached down between the grass and leaves to find a lonely daisy that hadn’t died and put it behind her ear, “is for your feelings.”

She smiled against her own will.

“And this,” she started, before grabbing his face softly and kissing him with intent, her tongue sneaking between his parted lips in a way it hadn’t in a long time, “is for your homework.” She closed his mouth and patted his cheek. “Now let’s get some mushrooms for dinner, why don’t we? It’s getting quite late.”

Still a bit dizzy from the kiss, Francis followed her in her task. He didn’t have a clue on what to do for his new mission, but he did know he would never wish to disappoint her. And now, he also knew the feeling was mutual.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth thought she had made herself clear and now this absolute dumbass thinks all those times y'all had a wank thinking about someone else weren't valid. Don't blame him, how was he supposed to know he was allowed to imagine women he found attractive naked while jerking off??? Nobody told him that.
> 
> Warning for failed masturbation due to a lack of proper sex ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took so long because I actually didn't want to write this chapter lol But I understood it was important. Failed masturbation and all things awful really hit close for me. So... yeah, kinda hard to write about it, even though I don't even have a penis. Hope that didn't ruin the chapter for y'all. I might take a while with the next one because I need to do some... eh, research. Field research. I hope it doesn't take that long but I'm always open to change things up a bit as I go or even split a chapter in half, so expect the unexpected. Follow me on Twitter (datcheesycake) to get more updates on this (never updated shit, but I'm gonna start now). Hope you like it! <3

“So you won’t be with me when I… uh, do it?” he carefully asked during dinner.

“I’m afraid not,” she answered in the simplest tone. “Oh, I must say you’ve outdone yourself with this soup, darling. I’m always telling you, you are…”

“Why can’t you be there?”

Noticing his growing despair, realizing the question needed to be addressed before they could continue with their lives, she sighed and took a sip from her glass of… probably water.

“Well, I just don’t believe it’s a wise thing to do. I wouldn’t like your sexual awakening to be tied to someone else. It should be something more personal.”

“But my… awakening is already tied to you,” he said in a little voice, almost begging.

Reaching out over the table, her hand covered his and she gave him a comforting smile.

“That’s exactly why I need you to take this step on your own.” The hand went away as quickly as it had come. “There aren’t a lot of things you can do entirely by yourself… for logistic reasons, of course. This is something you can do and I’d rather not interfere… You do understand, don’t you?”

“I… I think so.”

“Alright, then. Now finish your soup or I won’t let you wash my clothes next laundry day.”

That was all it took to make the soup disappear.

* * *

To say Francis never took his trousers off would make no sense. He obviously did on a regular basis, like any healthy sort-of-hygienic-who-might-have-forgotten-to-wash-behind-his-ears-for-a-few-years-but-quickly-came-back-to-his-senses-since-he-wasn’t-so-busy-he-couldn’t-afford-some-extra-washing-time-and-now-is-actually-pretty-decent human being. But it was by no means the same thing. All those times were to change into different clothes or get in the shower. This… this was for sinful purposes.

Francis didn’t believe this was a sin anymore, of course. Otherwise, he wouldn’t do it. However, there was still the smallest and most persistent of voices in the back of his mind, whispering that this was everything he had been raised to be against to. On the other hand, he did want to do it. Nanny Ashtoreth said it would help and also…

Well, she wouldn’t help the first time. And even though he thought it was a terrible idea at the start, he soon came to the realization it was very logical. His sexuality was already to intrinsically tied to her and the last thing they needed was to turn her into even more of a symbol. She wasn’t a symbol; she was a person. A person who could decide to leave at any moment. The second scariest possibility, right after her leaving, was him becoming completely incapable of feeling anything ever again.

So, first time, off-limits. Perfect. What about the second time? Or the third? Or the fiftieth? Would he get enough lifetime to do it fifty times? Would she still be around? How many times was one allowed to masturbate? Would she still be around?

Throwing his trousers and underwear away, he tried to do the same with these questions as he sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t fully understand how it worked, but he was sure having an existential crisis over it wouldn’t help. Alright, mental blank, mental blank, mental blank. If everything was going his way, he should be getting hard…

Was he? Oh, great, that was what all those desserts did, wasn’t it? He couldn’t even see it from where he was. He just sat there, hands on his thigh, eyes fixed on his belly as he waited for something just resembling a cock reaching out, announcing its presence, rearing its ugly head or whatever cocks did when they were looking for pets. Nothing.

Oh, and that was the next step. _Petting_ or whatever it was supposed to be like. Francis wasn’t stupid enough to seriously not have any clue of how masturbation _happened_ , but everything he ever heard about it sounded extremely painful. He didn’t even enjoy being too rough with it while washing it —he still washed it, of course—. But maybe he did have to touch it first. Maybe he had to… wake it up.

Really, the absolute unfairness of it all. How many times had he woken up with that damn thing praying for attention and had to ignore it till it decided to go back to sleep? Perhaps he should try in the morning, when nature did its job better than at any other time of the day.

No. No, it had to be now. It had to be sooner than later and as soon as possible. Because getting the first time done with would mean Nanny Ashtoreth actually interfering in the next ones and she did know what she was doing. Francis felt terrible for remembering this under such light, but she mentioned providing sexual gratification as one of her few redeeming qualities. Although it couldn’t be farther from the truth —he also meant it when he said she had so much more to offer—, it was… a very good prognosis.

_Oh, there you are…_

No! No. He might enjoy the idea of her taking part in the current stage of his… sexual awakening, but he respected her even more and her wishes were clear. This couldn’t be about her. She didn’t want to be around. This had to be all about him. About his… penis. Even if his penis wasn’t that much of a narcissist, Francis couldn’t have a good time knowing he was failing her.

_Get over it. We only have each other now._

And the bastard didn’t like that. It didn’t like that one bit. So Francis decided to go for it, whether it liked it or not, and closed his fist around it. None of them liked that. Not one bit. But it was like learning to ride a bike… No, that wasn’t it. Like smoking for the first time. The first time was awful but you tried it again to see if it got better and then it really did. But Francis truly disliked smoking and all things drug-related, so it only made it worse.

He moved his hand up and down, hoping something would work. His penis didn’t like that, either. Well, it wasn’t that simple. It was more like it wasn’t sure if it felt nice or awful. And Francis was also as confused as one can be.

Sadly, it didn’t take long before becoming too much. In a matter of seconds both his palm and cock started burning due to the constant friction and he forced himself to stop, despite the shame of giving up. He just couldn’t do it.

Collapsing against the mattress, still hard, still hurting, he began to cry.

When was the last time he disappointed her this bad? When was the last time he disappointed himself this bad?


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a light at the end of the tunnel and apparently it's going to make Francis cum. Meanwhile, please enjoy these absolute rays of sunshine living the life I wish I had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, so, this chapter came a bit different from what I expected and the next one probably won't need my... eh, field research's results, so expect it fairly soon. I hope. Thank y'all for reading and I want to dedicate this chapter to anyone who, like me, is absolutely incapable of giving themselves anything ressembling an orgasm <3

The first thing Francis did next morning when he entered the kitchen, was falling down on his knees and crawl in absolute shame towards where Nanny Ashtoreth was sitting, breakfast already served. He heard her move her chair to face him and, as soon as he reached her, his arms wrapped around her calves and his forehead landed on her lap.

She allowed this without a lot of questions, but not too many seconds later, her almost shy finger tapped his shoulder and he felt her shift, lowering herself towards him and whispering:

“Should I be aroused by this?”

Francis shook his head.

“No,” he sobbed against her skirts. “I should be!”

Now he was ugly-crying. He didn’t pride himself on being a beautiful person, but he was certain that, right now, he looked just awful, face raising despite his urge to hide it and tears blurring his vision and running down his cheeks. Nanny Ashtoreth’s thumb wiped one away and stayed there.

“Oh, dear, that’s certainly not the case,” she dismissed, clearly concerned, caressing his cheekbone. “Come on, now, it’s not proper to sit on the floor. Chop, chop.”

Gently, she helped him get up and made him sit on her lap, resting an arm behind him and rubbing his while her free hand grabbed a few tissues from the table to dry his tears. Francis couldn’t make them stop.

“I’m so sorry… I’m…”

“Shhh, don’t apologize, darling. Just let it all out,” she shushed as she forced him to rest his head on her shoulder, still petting the side of his arm. “Let it all out and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

He nodded, humiliated, and covered his face as the waves of whines slowly ceased. Nanny Ashtoreth gave him a few extra moments to make sure it was over and get into a better mental place.

“I take it your attempt at masturbation didn’t go well,” she assumed once everything was at least stable.

“I’m… I really…” he whimpered. “I know I disappointed you…”

“Oh, no, can you imagine? What a little sad life I’d be living if something like this ruined my day,” she chuckled, although it was obvious she didn’t mean to be… Well, mean. She was just trying to make him feel better. “You could never disappoint me, dear,” she added in a more serious note.

“But… but you said…”

“What did I say, mm? What did I say to make you think I’d be upset if you didn’t succeed?”

“I… You…” _Oh._ “You said… nothing of the sort, I believe.”

“That’s right, Francis. I never said anything like that. So, where is this fear of disappointing me coming from?”

Francis sat up straight to think about it. However, nothing came to mind. How fortunate that she was more open to making lucky guesses than she made it seem months ago.

“I think, and please correct me if I’m wrong, that the only person you disappointed here is you. Just like the only person here who doesn’t like your teeth and is afraid of them is you. And every other insecurity you might have about yourself.” Seeing that he was looking down, she re-established eye-contact by softly pulling his chin up. “Dear, I do need you to understand this. All that anxiety, all that pressure to be what you think will make me happy… that’s your head talking and worrying and panicking; not me.”

He stared at her in shaky silence.

“I’ve told you several times: _I like you_. I truly do. And I consider you capable and honest and handsome and so kind and so sweet it makes me want to vomit.” He couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Ugh, now you’re just being mean to your poor nanny,” she feigned annoyance, making him giggle even more and starting to spread pecks all over his face.

Amusedly overwhelmed, Francis pretended to attempt to get away, but he’d never convince anyone he didn’t enjoy it. When it all stopped, Nanny Ashtoreth pulled his plate of food from the other side of the table closer, right beside hers.

“That’s what I like to see,” she grinned at his own grin and tapped the edge of the plate with a spoon. “Now, I think we should save the rest of the conversation for when we’ve already eaten and discuss it more in depth, how does that sound to you, darling?”

“Perfect,” he nodded with the brightest smile.

A last chaste kiss brushed his cheekbone and they proceed to have breakfast. He sat on her lap during the whole meal.

* * *

Once they were done, Francis moved from Nanny Ashtoreth’s lap to his own chair and, hand in hand, they began the talk that had caused him nightmares all night long. His eyes wetted at the very notion of continuing it, but he managed to remain fairly civil this time, mostly because he knew he hadn’t failed her as bad as he believed.

“So… what happened?”

He sighed.

“Oh, it was all a mess… I… I didn’t like it one bit. It felt like a… a chore. And not one of the fun ones.”

Nanny Ashtoreth nodded, her thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles.

“Alright, that’s far from what we were looking for. But let’s narrow it a little, why don’t we? Was it all wrong from the very start?”

“I… I think so.” His blush deepened at what he was about to say. “I couldn’t even get it up. And it has to be… hard, right?”

“Well, yes, preferably.” There were clearly a lot of thoughts running through her mind as she tried to figure it out. “Tell me, dear, did you start with your cock?”

Francis blinked.

“Um… yes, isn’t… Isn’t it how it’s supposed to work?”

She couldn’t hold back a chuckle at that, shaking her head. It was amazing how many seemingly hurtful things she could do without hurting him at all. Even having the opposite effect sometimes.

“No, no, sweetheart, you don’t go straight for it. That’s not how it works. You’re supposed to… excite it a little first.”

“E-excite it?”

“Yes… For example, the things we do together? The things we did before you were ready to see me naked? Kissing, touching, licking…”

“I can’t kiss nor lick myself.”

“No, but you can touch.”

“I already tried that.”

She shook her head again.

“You tried that on your cock, which didn’t have any reason to react the way you wanted it to that soon.”

“I just don’t understand what else is there to touch,” he admitted, puzzled.

Nanny Ashtoreth moved her chair a bit closer, her grasp tightening but bringing him security instead of pain.

“Well, you have several options.” Her right hand —the one that wasn’t holding his— travelled up his arm, rubbing up and down. “Your arms…” It ascended to his shoulder. “Your chest…” It went just there and a small chuckle escaped her lips. “Your belly is quite sensitive as well…” Her foot caressed his leg. “And we can’t forget about those gorgeous thighs…”

Francis took a deep breath and felt his eyelids becoming heavy, slowly closing. He was really starting to enjoy the attentions when they all stopped at once.

“See? It doesn’t take a lot of work,” she concluded, her eyes acquiring some kind of shine that never failed to make him shudder. “In fact, I could even bet you just got at least half-hard.”

Francis pulled the tablecloth up a bit and looked down. Even though his smock made it difficult to see, there was an obvious tent. Shocked, he turned back to her.

“How did you…”

“I’m a psychic, darling,” she joked, winking. “So, let me get this straight, you barely touched yourself aside from your cock, is that correct?”

“It is…”

“And how did you induce a hands-free erection? Did you just put your mind into it?”

“I… I tried to, but… Oh, this is so embarrassing,” he sobbed into his hands.

“No, dear, I promise it’s not.” She made him put them down. “You can tell me.”

“But I… You’ll be disappointed…”

“We already went through this, Francis, remember. There is no way you disappoint me by doing something that didn’t affect anyone but you. Now please tell me so I can reassure you it doesn’t change anything.”

“I…” A defeated sigh. “I swear I didn’t mean to, it just came to mind and…” A gulp. “I thought about you for… for a second or two.”

She didn’t seem to process it at first. Oh, of course… She was probably disgusted by the mere concept of him…

“Oh,” she finally said, caught between surprise and… relief? “How flattering. Were you seriously apologizing for that?”

Francis looked at her, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“But it was wrong. It was… it wasn’t what you told me to do. You told me this had to be about me, not you. And I really didn’t mean to think about you! Please, believe me, I didn’t mean to…”

“Francis, what are you talking about? Once more, which part of everything I said made you think you weren’t allowed to—”

“I just told you!” he sobbed. “You said… you said you didn’t want to be involved. That it couldn’t have anything to do with you. That—”

“That I didn’t want to be in the room touching you, of course. That’s what I said. But how did that take you to the conclusion that merely _thinking_ about me was off-limits?”

He looked down, feeling absolutely ridiculous. It was her turn to sigh, hand returning to its spot over his.

“I suppose I didn’t make myself as clear as I hoped.” His gaze went back to hers. “Dear, I’m so very sorry. What I truly meant was that I wanted your first experience with masturbation to be yours. I… I wasn’t the first person to touch my privates. That was…” She stopped herself. “It really doesn’t matter who it was. And it was terrible. The only reason why he was doing it was to get me wet enough for penetration, because it would have been physically impossible otherwise.

”It wasn’t about making me feel good, and for a very long time, I thought there was nothing good to feel. Fingers were just a mechanical part of the process, a… _chore_ , as you said. And it took me years, not as many as one would think but far more than I would have liked, to give it a second chance and realize it was about feeling good all along.

”I wasn’t the one to do it, either. It was… a man I worked with. I won’t go into details, this is not about my sexual history, but he was one of the few men who truly understood how female anatomy worked that I have ever met. Our bosses’ child grew up and I left. As soon as I left, I went back to square one, practically _crying_ over how there would never be another person who could give me an orgasm.

”Luckily enough, I soon found out that the only person who would always be there to give me orgasms was myself. I started to study, to investigate, to figure my own body out; and now I remember the times when some man I haven’t seen in decades was the only human being in the world capable of bringing me pleasure, and I feel positively terrified that that was the life I was willing to resign myself to.”

“Oh, dearie…” Francis whispered.

“I don’t care if you think about me,” she insisted. “What I do care about is making sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that if someday I have to leave or, Satan forbid it, _decide_ to leave for whatever reason, you’ll be fine on your own. And you’ll be able to enjoy yourself and not even remember my name when you do. Francis, I need your body and your pleasure to be yours. I apologize if I didn’t explain myself properly before.”

“N-no, it’s okay… It’s…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry if I’m a bit… dense, I’m really trying to get better at—”

“No, dear, let me stop you right there. This was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d understand such ambiguous phrasing. I mean, I used to work with children, I should know—”

“But I’m not a child,” he reminded her, not with annoyance but with sadness, embarrassment even.

“Of course not, darling, you’re a man. But you are also a man with very limited experience on this field and we can’t forget about that. I was certainly a woman when my sex life began, too, but my… partners at the moment, just to use an appropriate term, should have taken into consideration that I didn’t have the skills nor the knowledge for us to be on equal ground. We’re equals, Francis, but we are _not_ on equal ground; that’s just not our reality. And our reality demands different things from both of us. I, for one, should communicate everything you need to know as well as I can and answer every question you might have, and you—”

“I should ask them,” he muttered, showing he understood.

A warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Yes, you should.” Letting go of his hand, she fixed her glasses and got ready to move on to the next stop. “Alright, I’m glad we clarified that. Was it all that went wrong?”

“No…” he admitted. “I… It hurt. It hurt terribly. I tried to do what everyone does and it just _burned_. Not in a… not in a _suspicious_ way just…” Tears filled his eyes again. “The friction, it was… too much.”

“I see. But I don’t believe it’s necessarily a problem, since you didn’t indulge in anything resembling foreplay or a remotely sexual thought about anyone but yourself.”

“So it might be an issue of… eh, excitement?”

“That would be my theory. Also a matter of lubrication, probably. I’ll get you some lube next time, it should make it easier. But yes, definitely some lack of genuine excitement there.”

“I guess… Wait, did you say lube? For my… I-I thought that was only for…”

“Lube is for everyone and everything, as long as you need it. Although I’m one for the opinion that it always makes things better and it’s never too much. There are even lubes designed to induce a… particularly strong state of excitement, but, once more, we should make sure this is something you can’t achieve under regular circumstances. In my experience, you can. I’ve seen you getting happy to see me several times.”

Francis felt his whole face burning down to his chest.

“Really?” he gasped, mortified.

“Darling, I don’t believe there is a soul in England who couldn’t see that,” she grinned and laughed at his expression, wrapping her hands around his. “It does get better, I promise. And…” She breathed in and out, as if she was preparing herself to say something she might regret. “I’ll help you through it.”

His eyes widened.

“Will you?”

“Not that I think it’s the wisest choice, but I just can’t stand the thought of such a lovely thing suffering or having anything but a great time. So… we’ll work on it together.”

“But I don’t want you to be—”

She shushed him, index finger landing against his lips.

“This was always about you. Trust me when I say it hurt to think about you doing it and not being allowed to help.” Another smile, even smaller than the previous one. “But do know this: it doesn’t matter if I’m there or not, because you’ll be doing most of the job. You’ll be the one to give yourself an orgasm.”

Francis gulped.

“Can you… can you promise that?”

Getting up from her chair, she grinned.

“Sweetheart, if you had the slightest idea of the things those hands can do, you wouldn’t have chosen to be a gardener.” She walked towards the kitchen door. “Now be a dear and wash those dishes. Nanny is a bit tired. Think of it as… part of your training, if you will.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him a warning look.

“Want to add underwear to that pile?” She pointed at the mountain of plates with her head and he shook his. “Then don’t speak to me in that tone, young man.”

She left and Francis sighed, both in relief and cautious fear of what might happen. But, overall, he was excited beyond description. She… she promised him an _orgasm_. How could she promise something like that? He was aware that men had it a lot easier than women, yet, somehow, he found it hard to see himself as a part of that group. No matter how many times he said he wasn’t a child, that was the place where life had put him to some extent.

Well, not anymore. Sooner than he could have ever hoped, he’d know what an orgasm was, and even though he wanted to respect her wish of not being tied to it, he was also incredibly grateful that this was the woman who would provide it.

Overwhelmed by this gratefulness, he got up and followed her, stopping her with his voice before she opened the cottage’s door to walk outside.

“Yes?” she said, turning back to him.

Francis felt his chest sinking as soon as she acknowledged he had spoken, but it was too late to back off.

“Um… I just wanted to say that, whenever that man you told me about is, I hope he knows what a privilege it was to… make you feel good for the first time, I guess.”

Nanny Ashtoreth snorted, unaffected.

“Oh, really, Francis, it’s been _decades_. He was over me as soon as I told him I was leaving.” A little smile crawled its way to her mouth as she opened the door and fixed a curl slightly out of place. “Besides, you’re infinitely better.”

Francis froze and continued in that way till about thirty seconds after the door clicked and she was gone. He cleared his throat nervously.

“Y-you mean at _that_?” he shouted, although he was alone.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Brother Francis has a wank and all of us too, since it's fucking hot and we're so gay for her not-girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long. Life got in the way. Hope it makes you horny bc it's far too long and my writing can't cope with so much words in just one chapter. There are so many verbs I don't know, aren't I amazing?

That night, Francis stepped out of the bathtub and, instead of getting directly into his pyjamas, he wrapped himself in a white cotton robe he didn’t wear that often. This, of course, was following the indications Nanny Ashtoreth gave him sometime in the afternoon, when she asked him if he was ready to try again, with her assistance now. ‘Ready’ turned out to be a stronger word than he initially thought, but he wasn’t regretting it either. Besides, he knew he could revoke his consent at any moment, no matter when, no matter if he… got excited.

On the other hand, he was, indeed, nervous. She had already seen so much of him, but once the night was over, there would be nothing left to hide. The nonsensical nature of that insecurity was almost laughable, because why would she care? Why would her not liking his penis make her leave? From day one, she was willing to pursue a dominant/submissive relationship without it being inside her. She agreed to live under a no penetration policy. So, even if she judged his penis to be inadequate, what difference would it make?

Francis realized how silly he sounded. However, it wasn’t such a practical worry, but a somehow aesthetical one. He never was one to worry about aesthetic; he just lacked the ability to perceive beauty in its purest forms. He sure enjoyed a nice painting or a garden of blooming flowers, but when the line got a bit blurrier… Well, in most things, he didn’t have much of an opinion. He loved what films and people on telly said he was supposed to love, like a lot of common, simple people.

At least till he met Nanny Ashtoreth. Because from the very first moment he saw her, he understood, in that instinctive and visceral way, that she was a beautiful person. Not a good-looking person, not a pretty woman, but absolutely, irrefutably beautiful. Something he couldn’t explain nor describe to anyone who hadn’t seen her before, but that he was certain no one in their senses could deny. And when he got to properly see her as God had intended her to be, her naked body just confirmed it.

One could tell a model in a magazine —long blond hair, hour-glass figure, plump lips and well-defined eyelashes— was gorgeous in one second, but women like Nanny Ashtoreth… Nanny Ashtoreth specifically, more than anyone else, required to be analysed, drank-in, digested. And, at the same time, her magnificence was just as apparent, if not even more. It went way beyond beauty-standards and personal taste. It was an objective fact and, as objective facts often did when seen through the complexity of human culture, it needed to be meditated, questioned and finally accepted.

Maybe the thing that worried him the most was the possibility that she wouldn’t say the same about him.

No. He had to get over it, and not in a selfless sense. He wanted to have a good time with masturbation. Perhaps an orgasm, even. The only way to achieve that was to forget about his stupid self-esteem issues for a night. Just a night, that was all he asked for. All he dared to hope for… and it still could be a stretch. Months ago he was convinced he’d never have a satisfying sexual experience, now the woman of his dreams was waiting to touch him right in his bed. He’d be damned if he didn’t try his best to enjoy it.

Taking a deep breath, he left the bathroom and went to his bedroom, numb enough to actually knock on the door like the silly thing he was.

“Come in,” her voice came from inside.

Another deep breath before doing as he was told. As always, the lights were dim. It never ceased to amaze him how intimate and warm his bedroom could look with such lighting. However, he didn’t give it too many thoughts this time, since right there, sitting at the edge of the bed, was Nanny Ashtoreth, wearing something he had never seen her wearing before.

It was a robe, but nothing like his and certainly not the one he already knew. This was… Well, more translucent. The soft brightness wouldn’t allow him to see that much, but if he focused, he could perceive the most prominent freckles on her thin arms and her underwear, everything tinted by the dark red of the fabric. When she stood up, it revealed how long it was, its sheer lower edge effortlessly brushing against the floor as she walked towards him.

Finally, she got so close Francis could see a hint of the lace of her bra showing under the pronounced cleavage, and yet her eyes —still behind her sunglasses— were everything he could look at.

“How was your bath, dear?” she asked in the softest, sultriest of voices, making him shudder.

Francis nodded breathlessly.

“Very… very nice…”

The corners of her lips twitched in a slight grin, the one she offered so generously and felt so earned, all at the same time. His were about to imitate them —he didn’t even think about how it wouldn’t look so good in him— when a long hand reached his cheek, knuckles caressing with such gentleness, making him shudder. It was a slow, thought-out touch, but it ended sooner than he anticipated and the disappointment was strong.

“I’m afraid I might be a bit overdressed,” she said and Francis nodded once more.

She wasn’t, under any kind of logic, overdressed, but how could he contradict her? She was the expert.

With his explicit approval, her fingers travelled to the belt of her own robe and undid it, opening but not taking it off. It still provided a good view of her matching underwear and stockings, though, and Francis didn’t feel like he could take much more at the moment. Her hands returned to him, wrapping themselves around the cotton collar of his clothes, up and down, never taking it out of the way. Her face was so close to his he couldn’t even see it all.

“I really like this robe, Francis,” she whispered, lips brushing against his as she spoke. “It’s very you.”

“Um… thank you, dearie,” he exhaled nervously. “Yours is… I… I really like yours, too.”

She chuckled at this. A low, breathy chuckle that seemed to reverberate inside his chest, which she was now touching. Not rubbing or caressing or anything of the like, just resting her palm against the small amount of skin the robe didn’t cover, his heart pumping under her thumb and index, hair standing on end in her path.

“Thank you,” she replied, finally pressing a kiss against his mouth. Just a peck, though. “It’s also very pleasant to touch, as well.”

She followed her statement by grabbing his right arm and pulling it around her waist. Francis shuddered again at the feeling of soft transparent fabric under his hand, the warmth of a fairly feminine body underneath, the most subtle of plushness coating the place where side became hip, even if her curves weren’t as prominent as other women’s. They didn’t have to be. The hint of her shape widened just a few millimetres, reminding him of how she, he, both of them were designed to…

“You’re trembling, darling,” she pouted, hands on his shoulders, squeezing with no force.

Of course he was. The partner he used to pray for was almost naked in his bedroom, wearing lingerie and letting him feel it. If he lowered his face just a little, he could bite her collarbone —very gently, obviously, he wouldn’t like to hurt her— or lick his way under the cup of her bra towards a clearly erect nipple. And if he shifted his knee, also just a little, his robe could open a bit and his bare thigh would confirm if she was as wet as the last time they were like this.

But he couldn’t say that.

“I’m a little… cold,” he said, instead.

Her pout intensified. She meant it to be caring and condescending but it was honestly the cutest thing in the world and Francis only wanted to kiss it away. He definitely couldn’t say that either.

“Oh, we can’t have that, can we?” she concluded. “Here, let’s get you warm.”

Holding his hand, she guided him towards the bed and let him take the right side as she walked around it to the left, although they both knew they’d end up meeting in the middle. Francis was already settled there, the same spot as always, noticing just how nice his pillows felt that night, when she kneeled by his side and slid the robe off her shoulders, folding it and throwing it to a near chair with no consideration.

Francis did look this time and the fact that she allowed it in such a confident silence made his head hurt. She was lovely, hands resting on her thighs and chin titled up, announcing herself rather than hiding, proud and humble at the same time. It took him several seconds to react.

“Um… should I take mine off, too, or…”

“Oh, no, dear, not yet,” she hurried in a stimulating whisper, moving closer to him, partially lying beside him like those old paintings of naked women, landing her hand on his chest again and nuzzling her nose against him. “We’re trying to get you excited, remember?”

Francis huffed a nervous laugh.

“I’m… I’m quite excited, actua-…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Right before the last word, her leg shifted and a bony knee brushed against his groin. Not that much of a contact, it was over before it started, but it did make him jump.

“Mm,” she hummed appreciatively. “I think we can do better than that, hm?” A kiss to the corner of his mouth, just as short as the previous ones, but oh so much wetter. “What do you say, darling?” And another.

“T-that sounds… good,” he choked out as she began nibbling on his earlobe.

“Great, so… how can I help? Is there something you’d like to see?”

Francis felt tears building in his eyes and the fact they didn’t mean sadness but overwhelming joy just overwhelmed him more. He gulped before answering, making sure it would come nice and clear, not as a series of unintelligible sobs.

“Your… your breasts, if you don’t mind.”

Nanny Ashtoreth smirked.

“Oh, I mind in the best way possible,” she teased, reaching behind her back to unclip her bra and throwing it on the bedside table.

Francis wetted his lips as he drank in the sight of her bare chest. Shortening the distance between them, she semi-leaned against him, eyes on his, breasts almost in front of his face, elbows turned inwards in a perhaps unintentional attempt to make them seem bigger. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t necessary, that he liked them as they were, but he figured it’d only raise more insecurities than it would quieten.

“What do we think?”

Now she was just fishing for compliments. She was fully aware of what he thought about them and it was evident his opinion hadn’t change since the last time. The worst part was that it worked and Francis adored her even more for it.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” he breathed out, sincere. “I… I love them.”

“Yeah? And what else do you love?”

_You…_

“Your eyes.”

She took her glasses off and carefully placed them beside her bra.

“What else?”

“Y-your hair…”

Sitting up on her knees, she started to pull the hair clips off her curls, undoing the perfectly crafted hairstyle she wore on a regular basis, letting the red waves fall —not exempt from messiness— over her shoulders in a wonderful, natural way.

“Anything else?” she asked, returning to her laying position, maybe a little insecure about her current appearance.

“Your legs are lovely, too…”

“Oh,” she chuckled and threw a leg over his stomach, “you mean these?”

Francis closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose and opened them again, one arm around her waist and the other resting by his side, any response to the pressure of her leg against his abdomen beyond his grasp.

“Y-yes, they… I like them a lot.”

“You can touch, you know?” she grinned, already grabbing both his hands and barely shifting to get them to her leg.

She didn’t even need to take them all the way there, because when they were close enough for him to wake up, he himself was the one to put them there, one on her calve and the other not too far from her knee. He squeezed lightly, noticing the heat of her flesh through the stocking, the addictive softness of it.

Rubbing up and down —never past her mid-thigh, never viciously—, Francis’ memory took him to the few times life confronted him to the sight of a woman’s legs, be it in a magazine or a television ad. He never dared to look, not even when that was the idea, not even respectfully, and it wasn’t just because he didn’t mean to objectify anyone. Deep inside, something told him he didn’t deserve to stare, that it wasn’t for him —again, even when it was—, that he didn’t have any right to enjoy it like the rest of heterosexual men.

And in all those fantasies about his wedding night —those that weren’t about carnal pleasure, but something bigger— he never considered anything like that, either. If someone would have told him that someday he’d be touching — _enjoying_ — a woman’s legs like that, he’d probably had hated his future self. How amazing it was not to be that person anymore.

“Now we’re getting there,” she praised, kissing his cheek and putting her leg away. Francis pouted at the removal, although he did his best to hide it. “Oh, don’t be like that. You knew this wasn’t about me.” Her hand found its way to his chest, pushing the collar of the robe away to reveal some more and rub small circles on it with the tip of her finger. Her lips were still pressed against his face. “This is about you and how you’ll learn to love this body I love so much.”

_Love…_ She didn’t mean it like that, and still…

Francis looked down at himself.

“I just don’t see what’s there to love,” he sighed.

Nanny Ashtoreth sat up, hand never leaving his chest.

“Are you serious, now?” she frowned in honest indignation, though her voice didn’t raise. When she lowered herself again, she was practically on top of him, mouth close to his. “Doesn’t it allow you to taste delicious cakes? Doesn’t it help you take care of our garden?” Her tone dropped to a husky purr. “Doesn’t it make you feel _so_ good, when we’re like this? Mm, darling?”

Francis gulped.

“That hardly has anything to do with…” The sentence trailed off as she took hold of his hand and placed it over his own chest, spreading his fingers, heartbeat quickening under his palm.

“Didn’t it bring me here and even made me come back?”

“I… Was it just because of that?”

“Of course not, dear,” she chuckled, “but we both already know how I feel about you being such a good boy.”

Francis’ shudder at her words made her chuckle and give him a brief kiss. However, all contact was suddenly broken when she decided she didn’t want to be on him anymore. He wished he could complain at the abrupt lack of closeness, but he wouldn’t want to ruin the momentum they seemed to have gained and… Well, as embarrassing as it was to admit it, he wanted her to keep talking.

“And you know what other wonderful thing this body does?” she leaned towards his ear, lips almost touching it. Francis made an intrigued, nervous noise. “It makes me _so_ wet, every single time. Shouldn’t that make you love it even just a little?”

It… it did. Since the first time it happened —or the first time he found out it happened—, it made him feel better than years of inexistent therapy would. But it also made him feel miserable, because he knew it was the wrong answer, that Nanny Ashtoreth wouldn’t allow it. To love his body because of what it did to her seemed to be against everything she preached.

But maybe it wasn’t half as bad… at least for the moment. Maybe loving it for the wrong reason was better than hating it. Maybe a step in the right direction was all it needed to be and that was alright. Maybe he had more interesting things to think about at the moment.

“Are you… I mean, right now?” he struggled to ask.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased. “Sadly, we have more pressing matters in hand. This, I’ll remind you once more, is about you.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Printing a kiss to his temple, she moved his hand down his chest and over his belly, opening the robe to the point where his erection was the only part of him it didn’t reveal yet. She exhaled an approving ‘mmh’ when she felt him go stiff and soft at the same time, savouring the sensation. He didn’t expect it to feel so good; not as good as it felt when she did it, but almost.

“This is what you’ll do every time I can’t help you, alright?” she said firmly. “Or if I can help you but I ask you to do it yourself, anyway. You’ll get yourself all warm and excited and then, just then, you’ll touch it.”

Francis stared at her, both hopeful and terrified.

“Are we going to… n-now?”

Nanny Ashtoreth nodded, half amused half loving, and leaned in to whisper one last command:

“Show us that cock, darling.”

Francis thought he was passing out, but it turned out he just closed his eyes instinctively after that. His hands found the belt of his robe in the darkness of his eyelids and undid it, ever so clumsy… ever so _eager_. The air of his room —slightly colder in comparison to the cotton; not by much— brushed the tip and he became aware of it. Even without looking or touching, he could tell it was there in a way once unknown for him. The most inconvenient of spontaneous erections couldn’t come close to this one, that was for certain.

He couldn’t face it just yet.

“You have a lovely cock, Francis,” she assured him. “Why don’t you take a look?”

He breathed in before doing it. First one eye, then the other. The sight was as shocking as the feeling. He had never seen it behave like that before, not even when he attempted to… stimulate it. Its length wasn’t a surprise, since he always knew he was a little below average, but the thickness and colour… Oh, the colour. Did he look like that when he blushed, too?

“There we go,” she praised. “Isn’t that a beautiful cock, dear?”

“It’s… it’s very red,” he managed.

Nanny Ashtoreth huffed a soft laugh.

“Yes, it is. But that’s not a bad thing.”

Francis looked at her as if he was waiting for something in her expression to imply she was lying, but she only seemed content with what the Lord gave him and his new-found ability to appreciate it. His eyes returned to it.

“Is it supposed to… c-curve like that?”

Another chuckle and a new kiss against his temple.

“Yes, darling. It’s very common for them to have a slight curve,” she confirmed and her voice dropped. “And _that_ is a very good thing. You know why?”

He shook his head and she made a pause before whispering:

“Because it helps it rub all the nice places inside a woman.”

His chest sank and his tongue got tied.

“I… I’m not… I still don’t think that’s a good—”

“ _Shhh_ , it’s okay, I know where your boundaries are. But the really good thing about masturbation is…” A whisper again, “you get to imagine whatever you like, even if you wouldn’t do it in real life.”

“I… I suppose that’s true, ain’t it?”

“Oh, yes, indeed. And there are certain ways… certain techniques, even certain toys that feel exactly the same.”

Francis gasped.

“The same as… being inside a woman?”

“Yes. And… Well, we’re not there yet, but there’s this… practice that not only feels the same but is also a… form of it. In fact, it’s different only if we get rid of euphemisms, which we’re clearly not ready to do.”

“You mean your… eh, mouth? Would you… Is that something you’d let me do… sometime?”

“Of course, whenever you ask,” she giggled. “But first… your hand.”

Making him open it, she reached to the bedside table and grabbed a bottle he hadn’t seen before. After popping it open, she put a fair amount of its content on his palm and left it back on its place. It didn’t feel quite like the massage oil they always used and he soon understood why.

“This makes all the difference,” she promised, rubbing his hand between hers to warm it up. “I don’t think we need it,” she added, looking at his leaking cock, “but one can never be too generous with it. Alright, there we go.”

She let go of his hand, expecting him to make the first move. He stared at his erection and back to her several times, getting increasingly more confused about what he was supposed to be doing.

“I just… touch it?”

“Let me help…”

She took his hand again and guided it to his cock, wrapping it around it and making him moan out loud.

“Be gentle at the start,” she advised. “Up and down. A soft grasp for now. The lubricant will ease the friction. Oh, and please do whatever you think might feel good.”

Francis nodded, wetting his lips as he began the motion. Gentle. Up and down. Gentle. Up and down. It was great, so far removed from his first experience. That one was rough and rushed; this was tender and slow-paced, like… like making love to himself. He could feel every nerve in his body jump, loving every touch of his hand —his very own hand—, warm and trembling.

“Try twisting your wrist a bit. And be mind of the head, it’s quite sensitive and it can be a lot if you’re not prepared.”

He obeyed and it was even better. The new movement of his wrist provided a sense of smoothness that he could hardly process, as pleasurable as it was. Her body was pressing against his side, her hand wrapped around his to steady it and make his technique more precise. He was shaking so much he couldn’t do it by himself.

“How are we doing?”

“ _Lovely…_ ” he sighed, mouth dry, face flushing down to his chest. His arm went around her waist before he could stop it and she didn’t try to stop it, either, palm resting on her hip, under the knickers and suspenders. She also didn’t stop that.

“I think you’re ready to move to the head. Rub your thumb in circles around the slit, feel how wet you’ve got yourself.”

To think of his own wetness as something he and only he had done wasn’t only false, but also a very satisfying thought, almost as good as knowing he made her wet. The head was indeed sensitive, which should also be the reason why it was the reddest part. A small shot of pre-cum was released against his thumb and he rubbed all over his hot skin, eyes unable to decide if they needed to shut or never look away.

“And you go down again,” she interrupted, amused by his whine as she forced his hand back to the root. “A little faster now, mm? Is that agreeable?”

“O-oh, yes, it… it is,” he sighed as he sped up his caresses. “ _Ah…_ ”

“That’s what I thought.”

“It… it does feel good. I didn’t expect it to… to feel this…”

“ _Shhh_ , don’t overthink it. You just didn’t have enough information to make it feel good. It’s over, now.”

And how good it felt to realize that. He wouldn’t have to go through another frustrating or painful experience; not on this field. Francis thought his heart would explode from happiness.

“My, we’re getting bolder, aren’t we?”

_What…_

All joy vanished when he noticed where his absent mind had taken his left hand, right to her… very lower-back. Oh, well, her bum.

“I-I didn’t mean to!” he excused himself, trying to stop it, but she didn’t let him.

“It’s alright, dear, you can touch as much as you like. A bit quicker, you don’t want to lose such a nice pace.”

He did and his cock twitched in appreciation. It was pulsing now, leaking insane amounts of pre-cum and standing as straight as he had never seen it. Escaping his lead again, his hand slid over her hip and down to her mount, but she made sure he still knew his place.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she tutted, pulling his hand up, away from her sex. “What did I tell you? This is not for me.”

“But—”

“Here, if your poor hand is getting restless, we have better ways to keep it occupied.”

With that said, she lowered his hand to his own groin. Francis wondered if she’d tell him to use it on his shaft, too —perhaps two was better than one—, but it kept going downwards beyond it, which scared him a bit. Although he knew some people liked a specific type of stimulation, he also knew he wasn’t quite there yet. Relief washed over him when she made it cup his balls instead.

“Now, our friends here are very delicate, so you want to be kind to them,” she told him in that sweet, motherly tone she so often used. “They’ll be kind to you in return.” Francis nodded in reluctant shock. “Don’t stop what you’re doing, just incorporate them. Roll them between your fingers, caress the middle, anything you like, as long as you’re careful.”

Despite how threatened a warning like that should make him feel —he wasn’t careful; he was clumsy and rough and too strong for his own good—, the actual following of the instructions proved to be as pleasurable as she said it’d be.

It was almost too hard to coordinate so many movements, so many twists and caresses and shakes. His body was hot enough for someone to fry an egg on his chest — _oh, no, she’d probably want to do something like that in the future…_ —, breathing was as exhausting as running a marathon and his head was spinning. This couldn’t be healthy. There had to be something inherently wrong with it. Something…

“Something’s building up,” he panted, astonished. “It’s… It almost hurts, but it’s…”

“It’s coming, darling,” she grinned, kissing his cheek. “Go for it. Let it come.”

“I… I don’t know how to… My hand is getting tired, I can barely feel my arm, I…”

Taking pity on him, Nanny Ashtoreth drove both of his hands away and wrapped hers around his cock. Her grasp was far tighter than his, more confident and free from any sort of distress, her technique outstandingly superior. A speed that was so fast for him, so out of his and his ability’s league, for her was as natural as blinking. She’d still look to his face to search for any sign of discomfort, but she wouldn’t stop unless he really seemed troubled or in pain. He wasn’t.

“Oh, God…” he sighed, chest raising and falling, hands grabbing the sheets. “It’s like it’s underneath, but I can’t reach… I can’t…”

“You can do it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

“I-I don’t know _how_ …” This time, it was almost a sob.

“Just let it happen. Relax and give yourself this.”

That was the last straw. Suddenly, his whole body froze and jumped and convulsed, all at the same time. He felt the weight of the world on his groin and it didn’t make sense that it felt so great. And then it all went to his shoulders and lifted from them, pushing him upwards, like his soul wanted to leave and his physicality pulled it back inside. It was Heaven and Hell and everything in-between. Dying and being born.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he screamed before collapsing against the softness of the bed.

Nanny Ashtoreth laughed.

“My, was it all it took to make you say a bad word?”

Francis couldn’t even apologize for his foul mouth as he watched her taking her hand to hers, _licking_ the side of a knuckle.

“Mm, I always knew you’d taste good.”

How could she say these things with a straight face?

The most disgraceful part of it was that all he could do as she did these scandalous things, was to stare at her with the loudest puppy-eyes ever and think about how grateful he was to have her in his life, how badly he wanted to thank her for showing him this.

But he wasn’t allowed to think that out-loud, so he forced a tired grin instead.

“May I try it, too?”

Nanny Ashtoreth looked at him like she was holding back the urge to call him a naughty little thing and ran her index finger over his hip, where there was also evidence of his enjoyment. Francis’ blush deepened as he sucked on the digit, tasting himself.

“What’s the verdict?” she asked playfully.

“It’s… rather nice,” he admitted.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him another peck on the face. The night was officially over and he still dared to add one last thing, something he would regret as soon as it left his lips.

“I still think you taste better.”

Nanny Ashtoreth went stiff beside him and Francis worried that he had offended her. Then she sat up on her knees once more, fingers hooking under the sides of her knickers, and she gave him that certain look.

“Wanna make some more?”

Was it too soon to say fuck again?


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I live my dream through this fictional woman and something makes Francis reflect on sprinklers and volcanos.
> 
> Warning for squirt, of course. Enjoy it 'cause it won't happen again. Not my cup of tea, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, exams again. The water-heater(?) broke and we're about to lose our damn house. I'm honestly so over this kind of stuff already. I feel like I'm at risk of becoming homeless at least once every six months. Something will happen and save our asses because this family's life is a fucking movie.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and please leave comments, it's the only reassurance I get for this <3

Before he could even finish his wide-eyed ‘yes’, she was already sliding her knickers down her long legs.

“Take that off, too, why don’t you?” she nodded at his open bathrobe, seeing he wouldn’t move.

Hurrying up in fear of disappointing her, Francis struggled to do as she said, the exhaustion of his climax mixing with an honest uncertainty of what would happen. Seconds later, they both were throwing their last pieces of clothing away with little care and the known bottle was back in her hands.

“Please speak up if you’re not interested,” she asked, warming the lube up like she had done minutes ago. “I understand a first orgasm is quite an intense experience and you’re entitled to your lack of ener—”

“I’m okay,” he reassured her, although he was starting to feel a bit sleepy. “But what exactly did you have in mind to—”

“Don’t spoil it, darling.” Her palms landed on his belly, making him jump, even though they weren’t cold. The wet feeling of lubricant against his skin still crushing him. “You can sleep through it, if you’d prefer.”

Francis gave her an exhausted smile, eyes shiny from somnolence. But every physical sensation was shadowed by the curiosity of finding out what it was all about.

“I’d never sleep on you,” he sighed, husky and so disgustingly in love. “Do forgive me if I’m not very involved, though. I don’t mean to disrespect.”

“I know you don’t, dear,” she grinned, throwing a leg over his waist.

Francis gasped at the sudden pressure of her body straddling him; not in pain but in utter shock. As if it wasn’t enough, she herself gasped as well, head falling back, hands on his chest as her knees settled at both sides of his middle. There truly was no way for him to sleep through this.

Nanny Ashtoreth pulled at his chest hair as she lowered herself on top of his belly, not with force, not with purpose; only poorly repressed lust that made her forget about her own strength at times. Luckily, it didn’t hurt, since her grasp was more of an expression rather than something she needed in a practical sense. Like she could handle the sensations without canalizing them physically.

Experimental as she had never been seen, she pushed her hips back and front in almost imperceptible movements. However, the friction of her self-lubricated sex against his not-so-self-lubricated abdomen was such an intense contact he would have noticed even if she hadn’t done anything at all.

Francis bit his lip, overwhelmed, hands not knowing what to do, assuming they were supposed to do something. She was so perfect and well-defined, as if an artist had drawn her in another time; he could easily distinguish the shape of her vulva. It was all there, so discernable, even the parts he didn’t touch, even before he saw it. Sliding up and down on top of him, wet because of him.

He shivered when their eyes made contact, her eyelids heavy and lower-lip trapped under her teeth. Francis attempted to smile and failed, so he decided to just talk, trusting his voice to carry the whole intent of his next question.

“Do you need me to do anything, dearie?”

No, no, no. It sounded awful. It sounded like he was tired —he was— and wanted to get this over with, to take care of her pleasure as if it was bureaucracy and kick her out of his bed. It sounded like he was praying for her to say ‘no, I’m alright on my own’ and let her do all the work herself, after everything she had done for him with no complaints. He knew sex wasn’t about what was fair, but…

Then her mouth twisted in a fond smile and her hands reached out for his, putting them on her thighs. Francis gulped at the feeling of her creamy skin, now a bit sweaty.

“Whatever you want,” she sighed, restarting the thrusting.

So he did. He ran his palms all the way up her thighs till they found her hips, thumbs brushing the prominent hipbones in soothing circles that matched her… rather alarming ones. But they didn’t stop there. They kept moving up, tracing the sides of her waist and ribs. By the time they cupped her breasts —insecure and ready to back off as soon as it became too much—, her mouth was already hanging open and her eyebrows almost met above the birth of her nose.

He rubbed her nipples, too, although his technique still needed some work. She didn’t seem to mind. Now, she leaned a bit back, hands holding on to his thighs to prevent falling, breath quicker than ever and a blush that went down to her stomach. Francis gently twisted her nipples between his fingers and pulled just enough to get an approving reaction. The speed of her ride increased.

The English language didn’t have words to describe her and even if it did, Francis would have never heard of them. It had to be something straight out of colleges, where poets and intellectuals would meet to discuss how to go as far as slightly nearer to define this woman.

She was simply beyond everything. So gorgeous, so natural and honest about her satisfaction, so willing to go for it and express it. She didn’t hold back moans and sighs; she gave them away carelessly, happy to share the gift God had reserved for her and maybe no other human being in the world.

Francis’ mind began to wander against his will. He happened to notice that from down there, moving and grunting and enjoying herself, it was almost like seeing her…

Of course, some amount of imagination was required. But she couldn’t look that different, right? When she… When someone…

“So lovely to see you having a good time,” he confessed, once more, against his will. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

She didn’t reply immediately; it took her a few seconds to really listen to what he was saying. Then, she opened her eyes and smirked, lowering herself forward, fingers grabbing his shoulders and small breasts hanging right in front of him.

“Is that so?”

Francis was too in love to catch the playfulness of their ‘conversation’ anymore. If she wanted to make things ‘kinkier’ or more separated from what they truly were for him, she’d find herself disappointed.

“ _Yes…_ ” he sighed. “You’re… you’re…”

“I am what, Francis?” She refused to give up.

Francis swallowed and squeezed his eyelids together and looked at her like he had remembered the right word when she got closer but forgotten it once more. Perhaps he read it in some old book as a young man, the few times he attempted to get into books, and failed to recall it because it was too long, too complicated, too specific. It was lost forever, but he could try to find another.

“ _Such a beautiful girl_ ,” he breathed, defeated and desperate, crushed under her magnificence. “So, so beautiful. I… Just… Your eyes, your hair, your nose, your… b-breasts, your… _everything_ , everything about you. Every inch of your height, so perfect for… for cuddling, no matter what they told you. I wish I knew how to… how to explain. I’m so bad at…”

She interrupted him with a brief kiss he struggled to properly taste.

“No putting yourself down,” she warned, reaching down between her legs.

Francis eyebrows raised for a second when he understood what she was about to do, the feeling of her fingers between his belly and her sex and the wet noises that came from it painting a surprisingly clear image in his fogged mind.

“You need to know I’m… I’ll never stop talking about you. You’ll be gone for years and I’ll still talk about you and no one will believe me.”

“So you think I’ll die first.”

He choked.

“No, no, I didn’t mean that!”

Another peck. She grinned.

“Then I don’t see why I should be going anywhere.”

Francis gasped, eyes unable to decide if they wanted to be on hers or her body.

“You mean that?” he said in his smallest voice.

Nanny Ashtoreth limited herself to wink at him, straightening her back, recuperating the original angle which allowed him to see a lot more of what she was up to with her hand. It wasn’t a lot —not more than the slightest hint of pink between her legs, shiny with slick—, but to know it was there, pressing against him, leaking all over him…

“It’d be so lovely for you to stay,” he insisted, more fixed on his own thoughts than his absolute adoration for the sight. “I’d… I’d really like that. Things going this well forever. It’d make me the… the happiest man on Earth.”

They weren’t on the same frequency, that was apparent. While he was recovering from his climax, she was chasing hers; while he was overwhelmed by love, she was obsessed with pleasure. However, he believed she was listening. No matter how tight she closed her eyes or how fast her fingers and hips went, she heard every last word.

“I’d treat you so nice. You wouldn’t have to raise one finger. Cooking, cleaning, gardening and… and hopefully making you feel good. I’d learn. I’d… read books or magazines or whatever I’d have to to really learn.”

“You already do,” she sighed, almost there.

“Do I?”

“ _Mhm…_ Oh, shit, I’m going to…”

“Oh, please do.”

“I _will_ …” Her breath hitched and her hand sped up as his brushed a hair out of her face. “F-fuck, I will, I really… _Ah!_ ”

And the second she pronounced that short, quite-to-the-point exclamation, her whole body went stiff and a substance of which source Francis wasn’t sure… exited her in a fairly intense fashion, spraying all over him.

Francis was frozen, thinking about sprinklers and volcanos and how he knew even less than he thought about those things while she fell to his side like a lightning had struck her, all pants and tremors.

He turned his head to her, mesmerized by her tired and satisfied expression but not distracted enough for not to pop the question.

“Did you just… pee on me?” He rushed to correct himself even before she reacted. “I-it’s okay if you did! I don’t mind. I understand it’s quite the experience and I also feared I would. Maybe I just managed to hold it back but…”

“Oh, no, dear, it’s just squirt,” she explained. “Something some vaginas can do if you hit the right spot in the right way. Very performative, I’ve always thought, but men seem to enjoy it. I figured you might find it flattering.”

“I do! I really do. It’s just…”

She sat up on her side, resting her head on her hand to look at him despite her exhaustion.

“You didn’t know it existed, did you?” He shook his head and she kissed his cheek. “Sorry I scared you.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to… eh, perform,” he admitted. “Knowing you had a good time is better than you hitting some secret spot in there… unless it makes it feel better. Otherwise it’s just a… a nice magic trick, isn’t it?”

She let her side fall back against the pillow and smiled tiredly.

“You really are something, aren’t you?”

Francis grinned nervously.

“Heh, aren’t we all?” He cleared his throat. “By the way, I’m sorry if I… I mean, if I said something disrespectful. I got a bit carried away.”

Nanny Ashtoreth frowned, puzzled.

“I-I… I called you a girl and you never seemed to like to be called that. When Carl…”

“Carl is Carl and you are you,” she stated as a fact.

“Well, yes, but that still doesn’t…”

“I would have used my safeword if I wasn’t okay with it.”

“So… are you okay with it?”

“Don’t push it and we’ll be just fine,” she winked and yawned. Loud. “Oh, my, that was really inappropriate, I apologize.”

Francis shrugged, so moved by her sudden humanity it made him blush.

“Maybe we should… eh, shower and call it a night?”

“By all means. You go first.”

“I… I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t let you…”

“No, no, dear, it’s alright. You had enough emotions today and you’re certainly more in need of a shower than I am. Please go first.”

“Okay, then.”

Uncertain, he left the bed and the room. Once he was dry and dressed —now in his regular pyjamas—, he came back to find her already asleep, mouth drooling over her forearm and legs open in the only way that could be bearable at this point, since more than twenty minutes had passed.

Francis sighed fondly and rushed back to the bathroom, returning to bed with two towels, one of them wet. Carefully, he pressed it against her centre and began to clean it, catching some fluids on her inner thighs as well and trying not to stare. He stopped when he heard her make a noise, but she simply shifted and kept resting, which he was grateful for. Then, he dried her with the same gentleness and lifted her from the mattress.

Carrying her to her own room proved to be far more difficult than he intended. Although she wasn’t heavy, her long limbs didn’t agree with his anything-but-long body and it was a lot to take into consideration while walking through doors and a rather narrow hallway.

They finally reached their destiny and his arms got some mercy once he lied her on the bed. Going through her drawers in the most respectful way he could manage, he selected the knickers he figured would be more suitable for sleeping —and that was hard, too… some of those things were barely strings, who would come up with such unforgiving designs? Probably a man obsessed with performative body reactions— and a nightgown that didn’t require the owner’s collaboration to put it on —that also sounded awful—.

He slid the underwear up her legs —again, avoiding staring— and made her sit up a bit to get the nightgown on her, a very challenging task since her arms refused to stay up —turned out some collaboration was in fact required—. As he did that, his eyes travelled to her vanity and back to her hair. It would be a nightmare to style when she woke up if she went to bed like that. He looked at the hair curlers on the vanity table and decided he could only make it worse.

His heart ached as he got her under the sheets and made sure everything was right. He wanted nothing more than getting in there with her and holding her close to his chest as she rested, but he knew it’d be way out of line for him to do that. Even if she never found out, he’d never forgive himself for doing something she wouldn’t approve of.

That was what made him… him, after all.

So he kissed her forehead and closed the drawers and shut the curtains so the sunlight wouldn’t wake her up against her will, everything done with her comfort in mind. No matter how perfect it all seemed to him, too.

At least she wouldn’t call him out on sleeping on the couch to give her space this time.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyday is leg day when you're running from your feelings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short fluffy/angsty chapter to get us through the weekend. Ignore all the mistakes, I'm really tired.
> 
> Btw, the song they're listening to is Dream A Little Dream Of Me, because I'm a basic bitch.

Next morning, Francis stood by the rope on their backyard trying to hang the wet sheets he should had washed the night before, even though the wind had other ideas. Immediately after his delayed success, he heard the French doors opening and Nanny Ashtoreth walking towards him, greeting him. He turned around to reply and smiled as he noticed she didn’t seem to face much trouble while styling her hair, despite his worries.

“My, you really thought about everything,” she praised when she noticed the clean sheets dancing in the cold air.

“You have no idea,” he beamed, half-joking half-serious.

“Such a good boy. We’ll have to reward you.”

Francis gulped, which must have amused them; the corner of her lips twitched in that pleased, gentle smile.

“What about a kiss?” she suggested, stepping into his personal step, hands finding his shoulders.

“I-I thought kisses couldn’t be rewards,” he forced a nervous grin.

“Then we’ll have to stick to them until you can think of a better one.”

And with that, she pressed her mouth against his, tongue caressing her lower lip in search of a way in. Francis melted into the kiss, arms falling at his sides, unsure of what to do. The contact was light and prolonged, sensual in every possible way, and left him light-headed and disoriented when it was over.

Then a snowflake fell on his nose.

“Oh, dear.” Nanny Ashtoreth looked up to the cloudy sky. “I suppose we’ll have to dry our clothes inside.”

He nodded and helped her undo all his hard work before they walked into the cottage, arm in arm.

* * *

That afternoon became one of the best of Francis’ life. He usually didn’t enjoy winter. Cold, dark and lonely, it always reminded him of his rather solitary existence. Without flowers and animals to talk to, everything could get quite depressing and he often found it difficult to find reasons to leave his bed at all. The only thing that made it sort of bearable was the thought of spring coming soon, in just a few months, bringing new life to town and ending his semi-hibernating estate.

This time, however, Francis not only wasn’t desperate for spring to arrive, but also felt like he didn’t want to rush into anything beyond this moment. Drinking hot chocolate by the fireplace, safe from the unmerciful weather outside, surrounded by cosy covers and pillows. They were sitting on the carpet, backs pressed against the couch and bodies pressed against each other. It was warm and comfortable and there was no place he’d rather be, with the delicious aroma of their drinks and fire and the soft music floating from the turning table.

“Doris Day, isn’t it?” he sighed contently.

“That’s what was written on the record,” Nanny Ashtoreth replied. In contrast with Francis relaxed posture, she seemed a bit stiff, sitting too straight and trying to use as little space as possible. A bit out of character for her.

“Such a nice lady, Doris Day…”

“If that’s your type,” she shrugged, taking another sip from her cup.

Francis had to think fast. Of course that wasn’t what he meant. Who could not love Doris Day? Aside from Nanny Ashtoreth, obviously. But now he needed to make a decision, a move. He could rush to correct himself, making it sound like an attempt to save face, or…

“You’re my type.”

Tell her the truth.

Suddenly, Nanny Ashtoreth stood up and walked to the windows at the opposite side of the room.

“Oh, would you look at this?” she sighed, running her finger through the glass. “Absolutely disgusting. It’s so… fogged.”

“It’s snowing outside,” Francis politely pointed out, missing the heat of her company.

“Yes, I can see that, but that’s no excuse for… Oh, and what about the driveway? It must be covered in snow at this point.”

“I’m sure we can clear it when it isn’t snowing anymore.”

She looked back at him like he had said the stupidest thing in the world, hands on hips.

“Now, Francis, that’s frankly irresponsible. What if there’s an emergency? How am I supposed to drive you to the hospital if—”

“I don’t think you could drive with this weather, anyway.”

“So am I just expected to let you die here? Listen to yourself.” But she didn’t wait for him to do that before rushing to the door and grab her coat. “No, no, completely unacceptable. I shall fix this mess immediately.”

“Dear, I really don’t think it’s necessary. The newspaper said there would be hail…”

“I have an umbrella.”

“That can’t protect you from…”

She almost knocked a lamp over when she opened the umbrella and threw it over her shoulder.

“Just watch me.”

The storm was so intense as she opened the door that it could have blown the whole living room away. She shut it again quickly and stared back at him, not seeming so sure anymore.

“Will you need my help?” he asked in a distressed voice.

“I don’t think so,” she answered, recovering her seriousness and not reacting to the wind the next time the door was opened, bravely going into the wild and closing it with a loud noise.

“You’re gonna catch a cold!” he yelled, still troubled.

“Nonsense!” she yelled back.

Francis sat there, chewing on his nails, ready to drown his worries in hot chocolate.

There went their afternoon…


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Francis finally got his turn with the braincell, part two.
> 
> TW for sickness and a very brief discussion of death (very, very brief). Figured some people might find it upsetting with the current state of things.

“I can’t believe I caught a cold. It’s ridiculous. It makes no sense at all.”

“Well, you did go out during a storm,” Francis carefully pointed out, fluffing the pillow behind her. “Don’t forget that, dearie.”

“As if you would let me forget,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Francis tried to convince her to put them back under the covers, but she refused. “No, no, I’m not a child, goddammit.”

He really didn’t want to laugh at her. However, her reactions were such a contrast to her usual behaviour he couldn’t help but find it a bit endearing, like… Fine, like a child. He’d never say that to her, though.

“Do you need anything else?” He sat by her side, on the edge of her bed.

She was about to repeat how she didn’t need no one to look after her like she was dying or a little girl, when the warning of a sneeze forced her mouth open and made her gasp in urgency. Francis rushed to grab a tissue from the bedside table and pressed it against her nose just in time.

“I hate this,” she sighed when it was over, falling back against her pillow.

“You really never caught a cold?”

“Of course not. Nannies aren’t supposed to get sick.”

“But you… were a nanny. Don’t children get sick sometimes?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely, all the time. Disgusting little creatures, always around germs, but it’s a very different situation.”

“Here’s your tea,” he said as he passed her the cup by the box of tissues. “Would you let them go outside during storms?”

Her eyes rolled over the edge of the cup.

“I’m not a child, Francis,” she replied, handing it back to him.

“Right, I’m sorry.” Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Once the cup was back on its place, his hand squeezed hers on the mattress. “I just find it hard to believe you never…”

“As I said, nannies aren’t supposed to get sick.”

“But you weren’t always a nanny… and nannies are human beings, too, right?”

Another sigh escaped her lips as her tired eyes went to the ceiling.

“I sometimes wish we weren’t, darling.”

He smiled fondly and gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

“You poor thing…”

“Don’t be condescending.” She stared back at him and his grin disappeared, more not to seem impolite than anything else. “You’re very good at this.”

His smile bloomed again, this time out of pure joy and flatter.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think that. I… I’d have liked to be a doctor or something of the sort.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Now, really? And why didn’t you follow that path?”

Francis shrugged, gaze lowering.

“I guess I didn’t consider myself smart enough. Doctors… they read a lot of stuff in college. Very complicate stuff, what they read. I could have never…” He wetted his lips, noticing how his eyes started to burn a bit. “Besides, my dear mother wouldn’t have approved it.”

Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t hide her surprise.

“That’s new.”

He replied with a saddened chuckle.

“It is, isn’t it? Most parents want their children to become professionals. Doctors, lawyers, all that. But mine didn’t. My family… my family had interesting views about a lot of topics. They didn’t really believe in doctors, since God has everything sorted out from the start, doesn’t he? Only he can decide if you live or die.”

He could tell by the look on her face that she thought it was a laughable idea. Not in the sense of actually laughing, but more like something insane she couldn’t believe she was hearing. And yet, she remained respectful and caring, making him adore her even more.

“Then I suppose you would have let me die outside,” she commented, serious.

Francis froze, eyes widening.

“O-of course not!”

“But what if God intended me to…”

His eyes watered up at the instant.

“You can’t say that!” he begged. Not yelled, but begged. “Dear, you’re so important to me. I obviously wouldn’t let you…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Francis.”

“No, it isn’t. You just said—”

“And I’m so very sorry. Really, I am. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her left hand joined the right, covering his. “I didn’t measure the reach of what I was saying, I didn’t think—”

“It’s alright,” he tried to smile, calming down. “I just… The thought of something happening to you… It really scared me.”

“I know and I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t let something like that happen.” She caressed his cheek. “You’re such a good…”

Her praise was interrupted by a violent cough that made them both jump. Francis rubbed her back and handed her a bucket as she got it under control and then offered another sip of tea, helping her blow her runny nose. Seconds later, she was laying on her back, exhausted and looking up to him like he was Jesus Christ as he did something as simple and brush a few hairs out of her sweaty forehead.

“Thank you for looking after me,” she exhaled.

Francis smiled and gave her a kiss right where he was touching, despite her warnings about getting himself sick, too.

“You’ll have to return the favour, then.”

All the debility left her face as a smirk spread over it.

“I didn’t mean… Uh…”

She chuckled as he attempted to explain himself and remarked a sincere ‘thank you.’ Francis walked to the door and turned around before leaving, his affectionate grin back on his mouth.

“We look after each other,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

After shutting the door behind him, as he went to the kitchen to get dinner made, he could swear he heard her sob. Every rational part of his mind told him it was because of how unbearable the symptoms of a cold could be for someone who didn’t have one in decades. He hoped with all of his might that that was the case.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one when they go to a Christmas party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, worst chapter to date. Let me make it clear that I had an exam today and I'll have one tomorrow, so I'm very tired and posting without reading twice. I was completely aware of how poorly written this was as I wrote it and the only reason I'm posting without fixing it first is that I want to get over it to pass to the hot stuff in next chapter. I hope that one'll be better. Thank y'all for reading <3

Weeks passed after Nanny Ashtoreth’s recovery when Francis suggested they should go to the Christmas party.

“The Christmas party?” she questioned, eyes never leaving her new book —surgery 101, it seemed to be now—. “What exactly is that?”

“Well, it’s a party the town offers. We all have dinner together and dance and give each other presents. It’s fun… not that I’ve ever stayed longer than a couple hours.”

“Oh, and why would that be?”

Francis shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been too comfortable at parties.”

“Then perhaps we should stay at home and have our own celebration.”

It was an honest offer, not second intentions implied. She didn’t sound particularly fond of any option and Francis sat at his side of the couch, thumbs rubbing together self-consciously, realizing everything was up to him.

She put her book aside.

“You do want us to go, don’t you?”

He bit on his lip, shrugging again.

“I just think it could be fun.”

Her hand wrapped around his.

“Then we’re going.”

* * *

Although Francis wasn’t used to wear a suit, he wasn’t entirely opposed to it. He did have some concerns, though, that had more to do with his appearance rather than his comfort. He spent hours choosing the right shirt and tie —not that he had many—, trying to make the perfect knot and avoid looking ridiculous as much as he could.

But the mirror wouldn’t lie to him. No matter how much effort he put into it, the image the looking glass returned would always the pitiful caricature of a man. Too short, too humble, too…

“Are you ready, darling?” Nanny Ashtoreth asked from outside his room.

Francis nodded breathlessly and then remembered she couldn’t see him, so he yelled a nervous ‘come in!’ instead, hoping not to sound as broken as he was.

He tried to slick up his hair one last time while she opened the door and walked behind him, heels kissing the floor with an unfamiliar sound. He looked up to their reflection when he felt her hand on his shoulder and almost choke on thin air.

“I hope it’s not too much,” she said calmly.

Francis blinked a few times, unable to believe his eyes. It was, in fact, a lot. Not too much, but a lot. Maybe too much, actually.

Following his example of dropping his usual clothes, she changed the Edwardian tweed suit for a dress. But not just some dress. It was the most stunning, elegant and sensual dress Francis had ever seen.

It began on her shoulders, with two thin straps tied behind her neck —which her pulled-up hair refused to cover, by the way—. Going down, its cleavage hid her breasts because of the simplest of logics: there was not a lot to hide. In a more voluptuous woman, a cleavage like that would poke someone’s eye out.

The rest of it wasn’t so provocative, aside from the fact it hugged her slight curves perfectly and the long skirt had a split on the side that reached her mid-thigh. Well, perhaps it was a bit provocative. The sparkly black fabric would definitely get most of the attention and the matching gloves were like the cherry on top.

Francis forgot how to speak. Luckily, it wasn’t necessary, since she soon made him turn towards her to examine him.

“Oh, my, aren’t you handsome,” she gasped, fixing his tie and running her hand through his cheek. “Now I’m a little embarrassed.”

He gulped.

“Y-you?”

If he didn’t know her, he would take offense. Since he did know her, he also knew her words were true, at least in her mind. Nanny Ashtoreth saw things in him most people didn’t see and of course she would consider them a universal experience that would outshine her anywhere they went.

“Does it surprise you?” she asked, worried. “Oh, dear, please tell me everything’s alright.”

It sure was. What could possibly be not-alright? The fact they’d look like Roger and Jessica Rabbit? Or how everyone would pity her for being her plus one no matter what they wore?

“It is,” he nodded. “You just… you’re… Um… You look very good, too.”

“Why, thank you, darling. But we should be on our way by now. Wouldn’t want people to think about how late we were rather than how good we look together, would we?”

He giggled despite himself.

“Of course not.”

* * *

The Christmas party was offered in a huge local which normally wasn’t used —no one would have enough people to throw a private celebration there, unless they invited the whole town—. It was nicely decorated, with white lights and flowers everywhere, which made Nanny Ashtoreth even harder to ignore. When they entered the room, arm in arm, everyone stopped to stare at them or… Well, her. Francis just happened to be her date.

They were about to begin the protocolled greetings when a group of children ran to them.

“Wow, Nanny, you look great!” one of them said.

“Thank you, Tyler,” she replied, like a queen showing gratefulness to her people’s praise.

“Yeah, you look like those girls my mum hates,” another boy —whose name Francis had forgotten— added.

“And there it goes…”

They shook hands with all of them and moved to the couches at the other side of the room, since the gift exchange was already starting.

Francis spent the next twenty minutes watching in awe as Nanny Ashtoreth pulled dozens and dozens of perfectly packed presents from her handbag and gave them to their new owners. The reactions of shock and gratitude never ceased to come. With some inexplicable magic, she had figured out exactly what everyone wanted, even if they never spoke about it with her. Some of them were so expensive Francis blushed just from thinking about it.

Halfway through the process, a line was formed as she was Santa Claus and they were all little children, Francis sitting by her side in hope she wouldn’t forget about him.

Carl came last and waited patiently, like he was expecting her to give him something extra special —something Francis probably wouldn’t dare to think out loud—. She stared back at him with a blank expression.

“Mm?” he encouraged.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I seem to have forgotten about you, dear,” she said without even looking inside her bag.

Francis covered his mouth to avoid laughing as Carl left, trying to mask his anger. His amusement almost ended when he realized she hadn’t bought him anything either, but she was quick to ease his pain by leaning closer to him.

“I’ll give you your gift at home,” she whispered into his ear.

That was all it took to put him in a good mood again.

* * *

During dinner, Francis was surprised to find Nanny Ashtoreth did contribute with some dishes behind his back. All of them were well-received —that wasn’t a surprise at all— and even Carmen and Jenny —who were still upset about her… not allowing them to insult them?— had to admit against her darkest wishes that her cooking skills were great.

“I have to say it,” a man called Roger said, mouth full of meat and salad and bread, “you really outdid yourself with this, Ms. Ashtoreth. My Terri here could learn a few things from you, eh?” he added, nudging his wife’s side despite her clear uncomfortableness.

Nanny Ashtoreth nodded politely.

“Why, thank you, Roger darling, but I actually don’t appreciate being used to put other women’s down.” Roger froze. “Perhaps Terri would find more time to figure the art of cooking out if she didn’t have to go to the bathroom after you to make sure you left it in sanitary conditions.”

Roger choked on his own spit and frantically whisper to Terri:

“You told her that?!”

“Trust me, she didn’t,” Carl —who was by his left— denied, terrified eyes fixed on a rather calm Nanny Ashtoreth.

Francis chuckled. She really couldn’t get any better.

* * *

He knew from the start things would be difficult when the dancing started. Francis wasn’t a good dancer at all, and Nanny Ashtoreth surely was the kind of woman who wanted to be pulled into an elaborate ballroom routine, rose in mouth and everything. How generous it was of her to sit by his side far from the dance floor and only accept invitations from the children who wanted to playfully tango with her or for her to teach them how to Charleston.

Just the children, though. Several men tried to convince her, some of them getting quite insistent, but her mind remained unchangeable.

“Oh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m Brother Francis’ plus one this evening and I’d rather stay close to him.”

It normally was enough for them to go away and him to die a little inside, overwhelmed by her loyalty. However, a particular one —who wasn’t Carl, for a change— wouldn’t take a no for an answer, even holding her hand a bit too forcefully to pass as a decent gentleman.

She was about to ask him to let go of her —which would end with blood, if he refused— when Francis decided to step in.

“Um, actually, I think I’d like to have this dance with Ms. Ashtoreth, if you don’t mind.”

That was a hint the bastard could take, like her opinion didn’t matter at all till another man confessed to own her. Francis hated him for that and would have said more, if the man hadn’t go away and her arm wasn’t already around his.

As they walked to the dance floor, he began regretting it.

“I’m not a good dancer,” he admitted, hand nervously resting on her exposed back while the other one took hers.

“That’s okay,” she smiled down at him. “I’ll show you.”

Slowly, they started to sway, him doing his best to follow her lead as the soft music played, practically in the background with his quickened heartbeat.

“Don’t look at your feet, darling,” she warned, fingers pulling his chin up. “Look at me.”

He did. He did and oh, was he happy to obey. Nanny Ashtoreth never met a not-gorgeous day in her life, but that night, in that dress, with all those lights on her face and her earrings and hair and soft smile… Francis couldn’t believe this was the girl he had taken to the ball. Years hurting over all those old-time films were the male leads ended up with the most beautiful ladies, or those television shows were the school dances were filled with perfect couples, knowing he would never have that.

And now he did. He had her, who was better than anything he could have dreamed of. Everything he ever wanted.

At this moment, he only wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wouldn’t be right to expose her in front of so many people. After all, they weren’t a real couple, husband and wife, not even… partners. They were just friends whose friendship exceeded the rules set for that type of relationship. Nothing else.

It had to be enough.

* * *

Back at home that night, they stumbled to turn the living room lights on. It was half past two and, even when they both were exhausted from such a long day, they didn’t rush into their bedrooms. Instead, Nanny Ashtoreth took a second to let her hair down — _Rita Hayworth who?_ — and while she did that, Francis reached to the small table closer to the door to grab something he hid behind his back.

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “I haven’t given you my gift.”

Nanny’s eyebrows raised. Realizing she expected nothing made his heart ache, but it didn’t take away his anxiety that she wouldn’t like it. Maybe she’d find it cheesy. He spent so much time picking it, making sure he had the money, but that didn’t mean she owe him excitement and approval.

“Dear, you shouldn’t have…” she sighed, taking the small package and working it open. “Oh,” was all she could say when the object inside was revealed.

Francis grinned as warmly as possible with his current nervousness, playing with the knot of his tie as he waited for her verdict.

“It’s a… Edwardian music box, I think?” he explained, seeing she wouldn’t speak. “An original one, that’s what the seller said. I suppose there’s still a chance I’ve been swindled? Oh, well, it’s still a lovely thing to have…”

She closed her mouth and stared at him.

“I-I figured you might like it, since you’re quite fond of the Edwardian era and lullabies and…” He shrugged. “I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea. A nice thing to…”

“Francis, this must have been terribly expensive,” she said, disguising his shock as plainness.

He huffed a tense laugh.

“Um, yes, it was. All my savings, actually. Heh, I guess we’ll have to sell a lot of veggies this spring, right?”

He was about to chuckle at his own not-that-much-of-a-joke when her hands grabbed his shoulders and his lips pressed forcefully against him. He opened his eyes into the kiss to make sure the present was safe in some firm surface, finding relief when locating it on the coffee table. She always moved faster than he could think.

“Oh,” he exhaled once they broke apart. “You did like it.”

Nanny Ashtoreth nodded, wiping some smeared lipstick away from her face. Francis was certain there was some of it on his face, too.

“Yes, dear. Thank you.”

He smiled, sincerely this time, and waited. She turned around but didn’t move, and Francis thought for a second that perhaps he was supposed to close his eyes and she wouldn’t give him his gift till then. That was when she took her hair away from her back and looked at him over her shoulder.

“Help me with this first, why don’t you…”

“O-oh, yes, of course,” he choked, rushing to untie the knot of the straps behind her neck and pull the zipper down —though it didn’t have a very long way to go—.

She kept the dress on her for a moment and Francis assumed she wouldn’t want to ruin it.

“Thank you,” she repeated.

And then the fabric was pulling around her ankles and she was only in her gloves, heels and knickers. Francis felt light-headed and almost forgot to swallow his own spit as she swayed into the hallway.

“Aren’t you coming, darling?” she asked a few seconds later.

He jumped.

“Um, y-yes, dear!” he replied, quickly waddling to where she was now, probably his room.

He had no idea of what she had in mind, but knowing her, it’d make his music box sound like _Cotton-Eye Joe_ or whatever kids were listening to these days.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny gives Francis a present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly to horny and sleepy to function long enough to write this note. By far the dirtiest chapter ever (or so I think). There is no going back from this. I'm telling you, we're all going to horny (and adverb) jail. Hope you enjoy the show.

“Strip down to your underwear and get on the bed,” she ordered as soon as they entered his room. Then her voice softened: “If you’d like to, that’s it.”

Francis didn’t need to be told twice. Quicker than a lightning, he began to struggle with his clothes as Nanny Ashtoreth calmly took her gloves off — _again, Rita Hayworth who?_ — and heels. Once freed from his last sock, he rushed to the middle of the bed and lied there, while she folded her gloves and put them aside.

“Are we ready?”

He nodded and, before he could even process her almost total nudity, he had her pressed against his chest, hands on his shoulders and lower belly meeting his painfully obvious bulge. She smiled wickedly.

“How are we feeling, dear?” she said against his cheek, breath hot and moist.

Francis gulped.

“Ah, a bit sweaty, I’m afraid. I-I could take a shower if you—”

“None of that,” she growled, fingers running down his arms to hold him in place by the wrists. “I like your sweat.”

And with that, she licked a long, wet line on the side of his face, making him shudder as her body _undulated_ on top of his. Perhaps a night of anticipation and holiday spirit… excited her natural excitement even more.

“Now,” she spoke correctly, hands returning to his shoulders to help her lift herself up a little, chest no longer hidden from his restless eyes. “I want to ask you something, darling.”

He nodded, enjoying the feeling of her hand going up to his face, knuckles stroking it with overwhelming care. She looked at him under her long lashes, so close he could sit up and kiss her, if he didn’t respect her so much… If he didn’t want to be good so bad.

“Have you played with yourself since the last time?”

He gave it a thought, unsure of what she expected him to say. Her eyes revealed she expected nothing but the truth.

“A couple times…” he admitted, lowering his gaze.

“Good,” she praised, mouth approaching his, never reaching it. “And were you able to give yourself an orgasm, Francis?”

Francis nodded again.

“Y-yes…”

“How many times?”

He reciprocated her eye-contact, knowing that she would call him out on that lack of manners sooner or later.

“All of them,” he whimpered.

The corners of her mouth twitched up in a devilish grin, pressing back against him in a way that would make Mae West gasp in shock.

“And what were you thinking about, mm?”

Francis swallowed.

“Y-you, of course.”

She smiled tenderly and agreed on a low voice:

“Of course.” Her long nails travelled down to his chest, not leaving marks but definitely reminding him of their presence. “So tell me, dear, what kind of naughty thoughts did you have about Nanny?”

Francis suddenly found it hard to breath. The air would get into his lungs but refused to go out, which forced him to push it out in muted pants.

“It’s alright, you can tell me. I won’t be offended,” she mumbled next to his ear.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling, he exhaled his shaky answer.

“Your… your lips.”

Nanny Ashtoreth sat up.

“My lips?”

“Yes…”

“And what were my lips doing to you?” she asked, face going down, closer to his. “Kissing you? Mm?”

Another speechless nod.

“Where?” No reply, he couldn’t make it leave his throat. “Where did you want Nanny to kiss you, darling?”

“ _Oh, all over…_ ” he groaned in a broken sob.

Nanny Ashtoreth pushed herself up by resting her palms on his chest, huffing a half-surprised half-malicious chuckle.

“Oh, all over, I see. Well, there is quite a lot to kiss, then. I should get to it as soon as possible, wouldn’t you agree?”

Francis’ eyes shot open. Although he knew his Christmas gift would be something he’d enjoy, he didn’t anticipate her to go that far, especially since there was a lot of him she had never kissed. But the prospect of having her beautiful mouth all over him wasn’t repelling in the slightest.

“I… I do think you’re right, dearie,” he finally said.

That was all it took for her to go back to him. With her hands cupping his chin —providing soft touches from her thumbs as well—, her lips were free at last to go wherever they wished. First, his forehead. Gentle smooches landed on every possible spot between his hair and eyes, light enough to be all in his imagination. Then, they moved down his nose, the scent of her lipstick printed against the tip. His cheeks weren’t neglected, either, despite the fact she already paid them lots of attention.

However, there was a place on his face where he wanted to feel her lips more than anything… and she thoroughly avoided it, following his diffuse jawline up to the lobe of his ear, wrapping about it. He was prepared to protest, he would have done it, if she hadn’t began to go downwards, right to his neck. That made him forget all resent about his own lips being ignored.

When she moved on to his chest —after leaving some very intentional hickeys on his throat—, he stared down at her and noticed there would be a trace of lipstick anywhere she kissed him. Noticing that he noticed, she looked back to him and gave him a dirty, predatory smile, deciding right then and there that she would make a show of marking him all over.

Open-mouthed kisses and licks were soon replaced by innocent pecks more in the line of what she did on his forehead, though undoubtedly stronger. Every time one wetted his skin, she looked down to confirm it left a perfect impression that no one could mistake for anything other than the trace of a woman. In a matter of minutes, his complexion would seem more purple than white and it made him feel so deliciously owned…

Despite his enjoyment, all trains of thoughts were lost once she focused on his belly, particularly his navel. One second, she was printing a hickey around it and the next one, she was circling it and… penetrating it with her tongue.

“ _Oh, God…_ ” he sighed, eyes rolling back.

She left out a perverse chuckle as she gently bit on the lower edge of the pit, freeing it before it even began to mix pain into the pleasure and sliding her lips down his happy trail like she did all those months ago. The difference was, this time, it was going somewhere. And Francis didn’t need to know where to be thrilled beyond description.

In a matter of seconds, that ‘where’ turned out to be his thighs. She had implied —or rather outright said— she found them appealing a couple times, but to see her act on that desire like it wasn’t just something she was telling him to give him a self-esteem bust…

“Careful,” he warned her in a worried tone while she pulled his legs up her shoulders. He would hate for her to break a bone over his heavy structure.

Nanny Ashtoreth grinned like it was nothing, like she barely felt the weight of them as she moved to kiss the inside of his right knee. And up. And up. _And up…_

“Your thighs are very sensitive,” she observed. “A good thing for both of us.”

Francis could only agree as she made her way up his inner thigh, planting a line of soft, wet kisses along it. But it couldn’t last forever. Eventually, she’d reach the short leg of his underwear and have to make a decision he wasn’t sure he was ready to be a part of. She kept getting closer and closer and so soon it caused him to doubt reality for a brief lapse, she was there, quickly moving to repeat the process on his left leg.

An eternity wouldn’t last long enough to savour the sensations. Francis knew he would never want to wash her marks away once it was over. Just let them there as a reminder of how good she made him feel, how lovely it was to be at her mercy.

Perhaps it was mercy what prompted her to carefully put his legs down at the same point where she chose to change the thigh she was giving her ministrations to, millimetres away from disaster. Still, she remained nearby, now laying on her front, arms resting on the flesh above his knees and face floating above his…

“Don’t get me wrong, dear, I absolutely adore those noises you were making. But I’m afraid we’re facing a problem.”

“W-what?” Francis succeeded to murmur.

“Well, you asked me to kiss you everywhere but…” She looked down at his groin. “There’s a place I can’t kiss unless we take this off.” And she nuzzled it to get the point across. “What do you say, darling?” she breathed against it. “Can we take this off?” And kissed the wet spot against which the head was pressing inside its cotton prison. “Can I kiss you here?”

What could he possibly do aside from nodding once the question landed?

“Use your words, Francis.”

“Y-yes, you can…”

“Who can do what?”

“You can…” He shut his eyes tight and rushed the words out of his mouth in a diffuse gasp. “ _YoucankissmethereNanny_ …”

“Alright, then,” she celebrated, giving the tip a little lick through the fabric as she hooked her fingers around the waistband of his pants. “Let’s get to it.”

She pulled the garment down to his mid-thighs and his cock jumped into the cold air. It soon was met by the warmth of her hand wrapping around it, stroking up and down at the softest, slowest of paces.

“Let’s give you some nice marks here, too,” she added, and clarified as if she could read his mind: “Don’t fear, sweetheart. I promise it’s safe.”

Francis’ relieved grin twisted into an overwhelmed ‘o’ when she began kissing up from his root to the top, stopping after every peck to speak.

“Wouldn’t dare to hurt such a beautiful. Perfect. Cock. Would we?”

He shook his head despite all the spinning he was sure it was doing and Nanny Ashtoreth emphasised her thoughts with a long lick, following the path her kisses had already traced, metaphorically punching a moan out of him.

“Poor thing,” she pouted, hand still moving as she picked up some small spurts of pre-cum with her tongue and lips. “No one has ever taken care of you, mm? No one ever treated you like you deserved.”

He made an affirmative, distressed noise. Aware of how pathetic it sounded, he bit on his knuckles and swallowed the sadness, the ache and shame of it.

“But everything is different now,” she mumbled against the tip. “Now you have someone to properly look after you and give you pleasure.” Another lick, up-to-down this time. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Francis hand fell back to his side again when he felt her lips wrapping around his balls, sucking them in and letting them out with a wet ‘pop’ just to do it once more, every time more intense than the previous one. He actually screamed as her tongue ran over the invisible line that divided them, up the underside of his cock till it reached his slit, mouth suddenly taking the whole length inside without warning.

She bobbed her head up and down, not fast or rough, just smooth movements that left him begging for more, crying and thrashing and shouting promises of eternal devotion, which she couldn’t help but laugh at. Those vibrations, her laughter, were what forced his hips to start moving independently of his thoughts.

Nanny Ashtoreth stopped, holding him back against the mattress with a firm grasp, making it obvious that she wasn’t having it. Francis sobbed when she got away from his cock.

“Oh, don’t get it confused for a second, darling,” she huffed, that wicked smile returning, her eyes showing something he didn’t see them show often. Her hand returned to his erection and squeezed, just light and hard enough, rubbing with those apparently famous rotations of the wrist. “You don’t get to fuck my mouth.”

Something in that inspired a new groan from him. A groan he never heard himself produce. A groan that couldn’t decide between sounding frustrated and sounding enthusiastic. That didn’t go over her head, either. Her grin intensified as she leaned closer to his cock, breath ghosting over it.

“I’m the one fucking you,” she completed, a dark, hot substance flowing under the surface of her sultry voice. Dominance, if a word for it even existed. “Oh, you liked that,” she smirked, feeling his erection twitch inside her slightly clenched fist, still jerking it. “Is that so, sweetheart? You liked that?”

She repeated that playful question with her lips pressing against the most prominent vein on his cock, that deliciously condescending pout caressing it, and Francis moaned in agony. It was Hell and Heaven at the same time. If he reacted in an urgently positive way, it amused her and made her tease him even more. And somehow, knowing that, knowing she was almost making fun of him, mocking his noises like non-psychologically trained nurses did with children acting in disproportionally pained ways…

“I think you do,” she chuckled before sucking on the head, tongue hitting the slit in quick, calculated whips. “That’s fine, darling. No need to cover your face.”

Francis wasn’t even aware of his hands doing that. As if he could think about anything else that his member disappearing inside her mouth and her nose brushing against his pubes when she went all the way down. Even at those rare occasions when she got tired, she seemed to have a thousand tricks to make it feel exactly the same, and watching through his shaking fingers, he drank in the whole display as if there wasn’t any other way to tell she was real and between his legs.

His hands couldn’t keep still for much longer. A particular suction she decided to test on him and his arms fell back to where they belonged at the moment. He rejected anything coming near to recall religious imagery —Jesus on that crux, arms spread just like his…— as his climax started to build, heavy and unavoidable.

“ _Oh_ , I’m gonna…”

“No,” she stated warningly, her mouth leaving him to be replaced by her hand.

Francis looked at her, speechless.

“W-what…”

“I said no, Francis.” Her hand stopped, keeping him there, giving him the feeling he couldn’t physically come until she released the pressure. “You don’t get to come just because you feel like it, either. You know why?”

He didn’t, but oh, did he want to…

“Why?” he asked in his smallest voice.

She grinned. It was clear that had been a chance for him to back off or change the rules if they were too much to handle, and she was so pleased that he chose her favourite option. There might be going back —there always was—, but for him, it was a point of no return in the best way possible.

“Because this cock belongs to _me_ ,” she finally revealed, her accent thickening and her smirk widening. “It’s mine and it comes when and _if_ I tell it to, not a second too soon, not a second too late. Understood?”

Francis whined in approval, eyes closing and nerve endings about to explode. Her hand went faster, up and down, back and front, foreskin raising over the tip when it reached it, pre-cum flowing out in subtle spurts.

“Say it,” she ordered.

“I… I can’t…”

“You can. Focus. Focus on it and say it, or I won’t let you have it.”

“It’s… it’s…”

“ _Remember: antichrist_ ,” she whispered, slowing down.

Francis nodded breathlessly, face burning as their glances met.

“ _It’s_ _yours!_ ” he shouted, throwing his head back as his toes curled. “M-my cock is yours. Please, please, I need…”

“Tell me what you need.”

“ _I need you to let me come, I need you to let me come, I need you to let me come…_ ” he recited like a mantra. “Please let me come, Nanny. I need it. I need to…”

“And why should I let you? Have you been a good boy this year?”

“Y-yes, yes, yes, I’ve been. I’ve… looked after you and our garden and… _Oh, God, please…_ ”

“And you’ve made me feel good, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve had… I…”

“And you’ve made me _wet_ , is that true?”

“Yes, also true, I’ve made you…”

“And you’ve made me come.”

“A-and I’ve made you come. Oh, I’ll make you… I’ll give that to you as many times as you like. I’ll make you feel good as many… Jesus Christ, I’ll give you everything. Everything you want, everything I can… J-just please, please let me come!”

Nanny Ashtoreth pretended to give it a thought, rubbing her chin with one hand as the other one rubbed his cock.

“Alright, you have convinced me,” she said. “Just answer this one question and I’ll let you come.”

Francis’ eyes widened as he waited for the question that would take him to Heaven. After a few seconds of anticipation building, she asked it:

“Why would you need my permission?”

He wasn’t sure he understood at first. Why would he…?

Oh.

“B-because I’m yours,” he choked out, hoping that was it.

“This cock is mine, too?” she pushed, squeezing softly.

“ _Ah, yes!_ Yes, it is. It’s yours.”

“Mine to _what_?”

“Yours to… to… _FUCK!”_

He couldn’t hold it back any longer. Just like the first time —that first time, with her assistance— he let it all out and, paradoxically unlike that first time, it was sudden and effortless. It did become easy over time and Francis was starting to fear it might become too easy, but at this moment, the only thing he cared about was the aftermath of his orgasm, that magical bliss right between sin and paradise.

He avoiding looking at her intentionally. After all, he had disobeyed her, even if he didn’t mean to. A part of him hated him for it, believing she should walk out without any concern about his well-being right then. He didn’t expect to feel her legs straddling his belly —wetness evident through the fabric of her knickers— and her hands on his hair and face.

“Clean,” she ordered, lowering her chest closer to him.

Francis gulped at the sight. It wasn’t a lot —years passed since he was young and healthy enough to produce great amounts of it—, but it was there, on her.

He doubted before sticking his tongue out and running it over her small breasts, picking up the consequences of his excitement with considerable diligence, knowing what it was. She was correct; it didn’t taste badly, but he didn’t love it and, even if he did, nothing could top the flavour of her own desire.

She visibly shuddered when his tongue lapped against her left nipple, from where a few drops of cum dripped till he stopped them. He shouldn’t forget that, although he had already taken his pleasure, she was pretty much unattended. He shouldn’t be selfish, no matter how tired and content he was…

Then she got up.

“Very good, darling,” she smiled, all mischief vanishing from her voice and expression. Now it was the nanny in her talking, brushing an overwhelmed tear off his cheek and patting his belly. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in your sleeping clothes so you can rest, mm? It’s been quite a day for you.”

“But you didn’t…” he attempted to point out, her soft lips silencing him.

“Not tonight, my dear,” she shushed, running her fingers through his hair. “Told you it was a present.”

And what a wonderful present it was, paling in comparison to the gift of her existence there…

At his home.

On his bed.

By his side.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As America's (and by extension, half the world's) destiny is decided, the author finds her escapism in a world where her self-insert and a hot(ter) version of Mary Poppins have sexy negotiations without worrying about politics.

He woke up to clean pyjamas and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. While getting dressed, he stood in front of the mirror and reflected on the lack of lipstick marks on his skin. He knew she would wash them away —she told him and they would have been gone as soon as he took a shower anyway—, but he still wished he’d got to keep them a little longer.

A sigh of happiness and, why not, relief escaped his lips like every single morning when he saw her standing by the stove, serving crepes with stunning precision, like a chef. Would he ever get over the fact she lived there and wouldn’t leave for no particular reason? Would he ever get used to know she wanted to stay?

“Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”

He nodded absently and was quick to add a verbal ‘yes’ once she gave him a warning look. Nanny Ashtoreth really enjoyed words and that made things difficult sometimes, but it also felt lovely to have someone so focused on what he said or avoided saying.

“How… how did you sleep?” he returned the question, coming back from his thoughts as he sat down.

Even with her glasses in the way, it seemed fair to assume her eyes widened for a second, but she took control over it before he was certain.

“Very well, thank you,” she responded plainly, putting their plates on the table and taking a seat. She then intertwined her fingers together and cleared her throat, turning their breakfast into a business meeting from a second to another. “I think we should talk about what happened last night.”

Francis practically choke on his crepes, attempting to reply as soon —and as adult-like— as possible.

“I can learn to dance, I swear.”

Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled, shaking her head and taking her glasses off.

“I mean what happened afterwards, darling. When we came home.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, so… tell me, how did you feel?”

Francis looked around, unsure that he heard correctly.

“Um… good?”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I… I most certainly did, dearie. I wouldn’t have come if… Oh, is that what it’s… Look, I’m sorry I came without permission. I didn’t mean to. But I promise I can…”

“That’s not what I want to talk about, darling, don’t worry. Of course I don’t expect you to have perfect self-control with such a history, or lack thereof. That’s something we can work towards to.” Francis gulped at the insinuation. “But in order to… potentially do that, there are a few discussions we should have first.”

Francis laughed just because he didn’t know what else to do. Whatever Nanny Ashtoreth was proposing got his attention, but he didn’t wish to compromise to something he wasn’t prepared for. She was, after all, a very experienced woman who didn’t even believe he was capable of hurting her and the things she could have done…

“Let’s… do that, then,” he decided before he got to decide.

Nanny Ashtoreth remained silent for a few seconds, perhaps analysing every way to start the conversation at hand. She nodded two or three times when she was ready.

“I said a lot of things last night,” she stated. “Were you comfortable with them?”

“Oh, I… Eh, yes, I believe I was. I wasn’t uncomfortable, I mean, so…”

“But did you think, at any moment, about using your safe-word?”

That was a tough one. Francis always felt, one way or another, on the verge of using his safe-word. It wasn’t so much of a need, but a deep, latent understanding of how everything could change in a blink of an eye and force him to say it. However, last night, he didn’t think of it once until she mentioned it.

He shook his head.

“You also knew you could use it whenever you needed to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Perfect, that’s what I like to hear.”

Francis shivered pleasantly at the praise. He could swear that didn’t go past her, but she kept herself from commenting on it, since it would take the chat in a direction that wasn’t intended. She told him the day she arrived she always meant what she said, and it had proved to be nothing but the truth over and over again.

Her hand wrapped around his.

“I care about you, dear, as I’ve cared for every person in my charge. I can’t go to bed with a clear conscience unless I’m 100% certain you know that and I’m not hurting you.”

He smiled at her around his fork, fondly.

“You didn’t hurt me at all. I… I really enjoyed what we did.”

“Even the things I said?”

“Y-yes,” he blushed.

“I don’t mean them.”

His heart sank. What was she trying to say? That she didn’t appreciate his body as much as she made it look like? That he didn’t show her such a good time?

“I don’t own you, Francis. No part of you belongs to me in any way.”

He released a comforted breath.

“Oh, don’t worry, I… I know that. It’s just… just a game, isn’t it?”

She patted his hand.

“That’s right, darling, just a game.”

Satisfied by that conclusion, she proposed they continued eating, now in a nice, effortless silence.

“I think I’d like to… um, keep the game a bit,” someone suddenly said, and Francis realised it was him one second later, her shocked eyes on him.

“You think so?” she asked, not challenging, but cautious.

“I do.”

Francis left his head hang, defeated by his own embarrassment. He wasn’t ashamed of wanting that —otherwise, he wouldn’t have gotten into that damn app—, but having to explain…

“Please look at me,” she asked.

He obeyed as if that simple request was an order of their new arrangement, though he couldn’t help the red on his cheeks.

“That’s something I’d find pleasure on, as well,” she acknowledged. “It’s the kind of relationship I’m the most used to, so I wouldn’t have any problem with sticking to it. But we need to agree on some things.”

“I don’t want to change it so much,” he clarified first. “I’m really fond of what we already have. I just… I’d like to add… some layers? What you said last night… Everything you said last night… I’m not against being told that sort of stuff. And you telling me what to do… I mean, you already do that, but it felt different. It’s more…”

“Sexual?”

Francis shuddered at the word, but nodded anyway.

“I’d like a more sexual dynamic, too,” she said.

“I don’t want to be inside you,” Francis rushed to insist, in sudden panic. “I’m sorry, it’s not something… It’s not negotiable, it’s not…”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Penetrative sex isn’t everything. What we did last night was sex, even if some purists wouldn’t consider it as such. And there are several practices we could try.” She smiled as Francis calmed down. “So, now that we already established you won’t be forced into anything, would you like me to be more dominant in the sexual aspect? Is that a good deal for you?”

He opened his mouth and shut it, insecure. Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t affected.

“Something else in your mind?”

“I don’t… I don’t have self-control. I came before you allowed it and doubted and struggled to say what you…”

“Oh, sweetheart, I told you, self-control is something we can work on. I was your first kiss and you never masturbated, where could you have developed it? It’s a matter of practice and discipline. Same with—”

“That’s my problem. D-discipline…”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s… I don’t want you to hurt me.”

“Hurt you, you say?”

Even though she merely sound confused, Francis felt blood rushing to his face.

“Not on purpose, just…”

“Francis, you do understand discipline goes beyond physical punishment, right? I don’t have any reason to hurt you unless it’s something you’re interested in.”

“But what else is there to do?”

“Well… I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

“No… Isn’t that why I lost it?”

“Not at all. You’re inexperienced and this is nothing but an extension of that. Spanking you wouldn’t change a thing in this scenario.” She watched him go stiff at the word. “Besides, that sort of punishment… or any punishment, for that matter, is accessory. It doesn’t have a real influence on body reactions you can’t control.”

“Then why would you do that?”

“Because it’s fun. Francis, it’s never been anything beyond pure and pointless fun. Do you seriously believe I can’t sleep at night knowing you came without my permission? Or that you couldn’t say the word ‘cock’? Or didn’t come exactly when I told you to? I don’t care at all as long as we both enjoy it and respect each other.

”This is what you need to comprehend: no matter how loud I yell, or how mad I look, or what names I call you, I’m never really angry at you. If anything, I’m astonishingly proud of you for all the advances you’re making and how well you’re learning to express what you want.”

“You are?” he smiled through his forming tears.

“Who wouldn’t be?”

Francis giggled at the compliment which could have or not melted her a little. Whatever was the case, she recovered fast enough.

“See, darling, it’s our arrangement about my clothes all over again. You’re not responsible for the state of my underwear and you’re under no obligation of washing it just because I tell you to. The difference is…”

“It’s a game.”

“Precisely. A game we like to play sometimes regardless of the actual situation. That’s what sexual discipline is. A set of rules meant to be followed, of course, but never anything you’re not okay with. It serves no purpose other than bringing us both pleasure.”

“I see…”

“Wonderful, then.” She took a sip of her cup of tea. “We’d have to establish some new boundaries, but I think—”

“There’s something I’d like to do.”

Nanny Ashtoreth looked back to him.

“Is there?”

“Uh-huh. I… I know I don’t have to and… and you don’t have to agree. But I’d feel a lot better if I did it and…”

She leaned closer, dead-serious.

“Tell me.”

“Um… Well… I think it’d be nice to… return the favour?”

“Return the favour,” she repeated. “What favour, Francis?”

He gulped and closed his eyes, fists clenching under the table in the urge to give her an answer that wouldn’t mortify him so much. But there weren’t that many ways to put it and there was only one she wanted to hear.

“Oral sex,” he muttered.

To his surprise, she didn’t savour the victory of forcing the term out of his lips for too long. She just nodded, agreeing in the most polite manner possible. She respected him too much to make him suffer, even because of something so unsubstantial and possibly amusing for her.

“Okay, let’s do it tonight.”

“T-tonight?”

“Unless it’s inconvenient for you.”

He shook his head, wide-eyed.

“No, I… Tonight sounds great.”

She grinned.

“Perfect. Now eat your breakfast. You’ll finish it even if gets cold.”

How could something so innocent become the most stimulating part of the whole meeting?


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's on the menu? LEGS... sadly, not coochie. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are sucking the life out of me and only Nanny Ashtoreth's dirty talk (the one true sexual orientation) can restore it. Hope you like it.
> 
> Also warning for some potentially triggering... reactions. Unsolved trauma. An absense of "no" doesn't mean "yes" and her coping mechanism is actively refusing to admit it. So lucky we have Francis.

“You may come in, darling.”

Finally walking into her bedroom —and of course he didn’t make little of the miracle that it was that she would welcome him there—, he was surprised to find her completely dressed, except for her glasses, coat and hat. He didn’t expect her to wait for him naked —she knew how hard this whole experiment would be for him—, yet he somehow understood that was a possibility and spent the whole day preparing for it to happen.

“Close the door. I don’t want the room to get cold.”

He obeyed and, as he did, he had the feeling she wasn’t talking about the room. When he stepped farther into it and stood at the middle, just in front of the bed’s feet, he held his breath as she circled him like a predator would do to its prey, hands behind her back in sort of a formal inspection.

“How are you, dear?” she asked, stopping once they were face to face. “Still want to do it?”

Francis nodded, eyes on the floor, and she took hold of his chin to make him look up.

“Undress me, then.”

He froze at the order, abruptly awaken from his state of semi-awareness. Her right hand was hanging in front of him, arm gracefully stretched, reminding him of a queen who demands to be kissed as a greeting.

“D-do you really want me to do that?” he asked, reluctant. All her clothes were incredibly well-kept and it seemed odd that she anticipated him to take proper care of them.

“Do I really need to say it twice?” she replied, distant yet receptive, alert to any sign of true discomfort.

She didn’t. As quick as his hesitancy would allow, he proceed to take her clothes off. First one glove, then the other. She told him to pull her skirts down first, since she didn’t want wrinkles on her blouse and he struggled to help her get out them. His hands were reaching around her to get the clasp of her bra, but she stopped them, grabbing his wrists with force and putting them away.

“Enough,” she announced. “On your knees.”

“On my—”

Francis barely got a chance to question it before she pushed him to the desired position, her own body sitting at the edge of the bed. Now he was kneeling on the floor between her thighs —partially hidden behind transparent stockings; no garter belt this time— that soon went up to rest on his shoulders. He stared at her in confusion.

“N-now…?”

“No, darling,” she shook her head, subtly rubbing her legs around the sides of his neck. “Just get used to being there. Is it good?”

Good would be an understatement. It was bloody amazing. To look up and see her there, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed, hair almost undone by the activities of the day, nipples clearly perking under the thin black fabric that covered them. Her fingers running through his hair, lips curving in the insinuation of a smile that was both caring and filthy.

“Yes,” was all he could articulate. “It’s… it’s very good. Thank you.”

He tried to focus on her face —just for the sake of being respectful, even if it wasn’t needed anymore—, but it was difficult. Her thighs were soft and warm and the pressure of the back of knees over his shoulders felt deliciously weighting. How could he concentrate? How could he keep his eyes to the front when there was so much beauty around him?

“You’re a legs man, aren’t you?” she smirked, watching him blush.

“I… I guess I am.”

“Mhm, always knew it,” a dark chuckle fell from her mouth. “You should have seen your face when I first asked you to unclasp my stockings.”

She laughed again as his blush deepened. It wasn’t just the exposition of what he thought he had disguised so well, but also the concept of him being a ‘body part man’, whatever that part was. His beliefs and human decency kept him away from those objectifying conversations when he talked with other men, but in the privacy of his mind, he still wouldn’t dare to acknowledge he had preferences or notice he… noticed things he liked in women.

However, Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she sounded like she enjoyed being noticed that way. Francis felt so blessed and condemned at the same time for that.

“Want to know a secret?” she whispered huskily.

He nodded.

Nanny Ashtoreth leaned forward, closer to his ear as she shortened the distance between his face and her groin —if she did it on purpose or it was an unavoidable consequence, it was unclear—.

“Before I came here, I mostly wore pantyhose on a regular basis,” she revealed, voice soft and heated. “That day in the woods when we had our first picnic together, it was a coincidence I was wearing stockings. Would you like to know why I started wearing them more often?”

“Uh-huh…” he whimpered.

She exhaled a heavy, moist breath against the lobe of his ear before the confession he was hoping —praying— for.

“I did it for you, Francis,” she hissed. “Because I wanted to tease you, tempt you, make you hard. And I wanted you to touch yourself at night and give yourself orgasm after orgasm just picturing my legs around you, like this.”

Francis was incapable of producing any sound resembling a word at this point. All he could do was nod and stare and whimper whenever it became necessary. The back of her hand stroke his cheek, slowly.

“And to think all this time you weren’t doing it. What a shame…”

His eyes fluttered in panicky shock. His speech ability was restored.

“I-I do now…”

“I know, darling, and I’m proud. But there’s something else you should be doing at the moment, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I… Uh… Let me…” Still unsure, he reached for the waist of her knickers, but she stopped him.

“No, not yet.” He blinked a few times before she explained with a wicked grin: “First you have to make sure everything is ready. So…” She parted her thighs as much as she could with him in between them. “Why don’t you do a test?” And her index finger tapped a spot right in the middle. “Here?”

Francis’ gaze went from her face to it and back several times as his mouth moved, no sound coming out. Gently, she grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled him in.

“Just a little kiss will do…”

Realizing there wasn’t anything he could do besides stopping everything, he pursed his lips as exaggeratedly as he was capable and closed his eyes, nose wrinkling. He knew it wasn’t the most flattering image, but he’d rather look like a fish than a rabbit.

Seconds later, his lips touched something. The unmistakable softness of silk and the heat coming from under it met them, welcoming and intoxicating.

She gasped and he backed off faster than the time he took getting there.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Did I tell you to speak?” she cut him off.

Francis swallowed the rest of his apology and shook his head. She titled her chin slightly up, a look of superiority on her face as her hand remained in his hair, not tugging, just keeping him in place.

“Now I’m going to ask you a question. Answering my question honestly and using your safe-word are the only situations when you’re allowed to speak. Are we clear, darling?”

“Y-yes…” he confirmed, not convinced he was really prompted to do so, until he recalled one of the exceptions to the rule: answering questions. He suspected it was more of another rule than it was a freedom.

“So tell me, Francis,” she started, eyes on his. “Am I wet?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I said…” She got closer, grabbing his chin, not too hard but hard enough. “Am I wet?”

Before he could reply, she ran her thumb roughly over his lower lip, picking up any hint of her arousal that could have gotten there.

“Mm.” She clicked her tongue, examining it. “Not nearly enough. I’m sure we can do better than that. Let´s go, sweetheart.”

With that said, she slid her legs off his shoulders and scooped up to the bedhead, crooking her finger in a ‘come here’ gesture. Francis went after, keeping all complains about his neck to himself. Once more, he was between her knees, sitting on his feet —or as close to that posture as his body could manage—, palms resting on his own thighs.

A vicious grin installed on her face as her fist closed around his scarf and pulled him downwards, closer, forcing him to move his hands to both sides of her to prevent himself from crushing her.

“And now you can take it off,” she revealed, pulling his arms around her waist, fingers landing on the clasp of her bra.

Francis struggled to do as he was told. It never ceased to amaze him how… fairly good he was at this sort of thing. Men with more than average skills would find trouble with it, yet here he was, clumsy as a clown, getting the most challenging piece of fabric out of the way.

He didn’t have a lot of time to rejoice in this victory. He never did. Because every time he tried, her nudity was there to remind him of more pressing matters that he needed —and wanted— to take care of.

“May I…” He gestured to her lower half.

“Not yet, darling. You have things to do up in here.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Now get to work or I’ll be upset.”

That didn’t have any right to give him the feelings it was giving him. He suspected it had something to do with how he knew she didn’t mean it, that she would be upset. It was only a game.

So he let her draw him down, nails almost digging into his flesh as he went to kiss her. First on her cheek and down her chin, just small pecks like the ones she would give him sometimes. But he wasn’t wearing lipstick and, when he got to her neck, she made it clear.

“You better leave marks,” she warned in a playful tone. “Otherwise it’s not a proper thank you for what I did for you.”

Francis gave her a second to regret it. He had to, in this situation. She knew what she was getting herself into and… Well, that was it, he figured. She knew.

He started with gentle, experimental licks. She seemed to like that. He then moved on to more open-mouthed kisses. She really liked that. He was extremely careful to keep his teeth behind his lips, using as much tongue as he could and hoping she wouldn’t notice. Of course she noticed.

“Bite me,” she grunted.

Francis stopped immediately, pulling himself up on his elbows.

“I… I can’t do that,” he muttered, saddened.

“It’s okay, dear,” she told him, hand caressing his cheek.

“I’m so very sorry…” He could feel tears burning his eyes.

“It’s okay.” She pulled him down again and kissed him. Then, she wrapped her arms around him as the side of his face rested against her chest. “Just keep going, Francis. It’s okay.”

Weakened by his own weakness, he did his best to continue, softly kissing her collarbone without even raising his head, the warmth of her skin against the side of his face, one hand coming up to cup her breast. She gasped as his thumb covered her nipple, circling it and playing with it, his eyes fixed on the way it moved and ear focused on the increasing speed of her heartbeat.

Soon he was back in business, desperately kissing and sucking on her breasts, unable to choose one, deciding to go for both instead in full of unintentional spit intervals. Her sighs turning into moans with such easiness he had to give it a specific thought to realize.

“Oh, that’s it, sweetheart. That was all you had to do…” she exhaled, hands in his hair as she threw her head back and her whole body undulated under his ministrations. “And you love it, don’t you? You love the one job you have…”

Francis nodded, looking up with his big doe eye, like he didn’t comprehend the reach of their enjoyment and desire, as he pushed her breasts together to create a channel he could slide his tongue through.

“Actually,” she suddenly interrupted him, “I believe you might be loving it too much.”

“T-too much?” he asked, nervous.

What was she talking…?

Just as unexpectedly, she pushed him away and made him look down between their bodies.

Oh…

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“You,” she said, leg flexing to press her knee right against his groin, not hurting him but prompting him to behave, “don’t get to do this.” And it _rubbed_. “You don’t get to hump my bed like some sort of animal as you give me pleasure.”

“I didn’t mean to. I—”

“Listen to me, Francis.” She grabbed him by the scarf again, bringing his face inches away from hers. “I invite you to my bed with one and only one purpose and it is to make me feel good. You may feel good in the process, but it’s absolutely forbidden for you to actively pursue it unless I say so. If I want something to have anything to do with _my_ cock, we do it in your bedroom. Here, I’m first, second and third, and if you’re lucky, you get to go after last, understood?”

“G-god, yes…”he sighed, eyes wide and cheeks tinted.

“Now be a good boy and keep sucking on my tits. And make sure I get really wet this time, because in five minutes _or less_ , that beautiful mouth will be full of my cunt, and trust me, darling, no one gives anyone an orgasm before I get mine.”

Francis wanted to reaffirm his agreement with words, but none would come out, as usually. Nanny Ashtoreth’s gaze took a significantly softer expression.

“Is that good for you?” she asked, docile and considerate.

“It…” He cleared his throat. “It is.”

“Then keep working. Chop, chop.” It was an order, but it still wasn’t as aggressive as her last… whatever that was.

He in fact kept working, as if nothing had happened. Or, more likely, as if something had happened, committing even more to the task, putting even more devotion into, as she said, was his job. And she rewarded him with approving hums and gentle touched and everything he needed to remember she didn’t mean all the degrading stuff.

The only thing she did mean was that he had five minutes. Minutes that flew in what felt like seconds, as he travelled down her middle right to her lower belly.

“I love your tummy,” he giggled between kisses before he could stop himself, nuzzling the small curve of it.

“Thank you, that’s where I keep my uterus,” she replied, matter-of-factly, probably as confused by the comment as him.

“A wonderful place to put it.”

“That’s what my doctor said… Could very well get rid of it at this point.”

“No, I like it,” he joked back, giving her abdomen one last peck.

The tenderness of the moment vanished when she pushed him away, that look returning to her face.

“That’s enough. Take this damn thing off,” she growled, referring to her knickers.

Francis sat back on his heels and stared. It was happening. It was finally happening, and although he did sign himself up for it, doubt started to twist in his stomach. Trying to gain some time, he hooked his fingers under the edge of her stockings.

“May I… mm, these too?” He tested his luck.

Nanny Ashtoreth’s eyes expanded for a second, her lungs skipping one breath and her body tensing up. Not long enough for it to become a problem, but still…

“May I?” he repeated.

Coming back to reality and looking away, she nodded. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t worry him, but he didn’t find it in him to stop it all and go deeper. Perhaps it’d had been the wise thing to do, yet he feared it would cause her suffering. Besides, he was already pulling her stockings down, so giving up at this point would only bring more attention to it. Once he folded them and set them aside, she appeared to be alright again and he preferred to focus on what she asked for: getting the damn thing off.

A few instants later, her last piece of clothing was out of the way and she laid there, exposed and vulnerable, in front of him. His eyes went straight to that new part of her, recently revealed, the only one he was yet to know. All pink and glistering with slick, hidden yet open, both mysterious and honest and all for him.

It didn’t look anything like the science diagrams and he was glad. It would be hell to find every part that biology books made sound so in-plain-sight, but that didn’t worry him. He loved it. He didn’t understand why anyone would feel anything but love for such a beautiful thing, although his opinions on the rest of her didn’t defer much from that sentiment.

“I realize it’s a bit intimidating,” she said. “Don’t feel guilty if you don’t like it at first. They’re not like most people picture them, especially when they’re as… natural-looking as mine. But…”

“Oh, Ashtoreth,” he smiled, tears of devotion building up, “you’re just the prettiest thing from head to toe, aren’t you?”

Nanny Ashtoreth frowned and looked away. However, her reaction felt trapped between genuine avoidance and something Francis couldn’t put his finger on. It didn’t come off as real, not even close, and all it did was increase that adoration blooming inside his chest.

“Can I…”

“Do it,” she ordered, again, caught between two contradictory feelings.

After all, there was somewhere he could put his finger on. And oh, how he wanted to…

Francis always imagined the first woman he would do this to as a virgin, just like him. Maybe that was the reason why he proceeded so thoughtfully, hand reaching out in an agonizing pace, tip of his index barely touching the smooth, wet skin.

“Oh, my, dear… You’re so soft… I love it…”

And then, only when he was certain he wouldn’t get a negative reaction, pressing inside.

“Also tight. How are you… I know I’ve done this before, but I can’t help… How can you be so beautiful?”

“Shut up,” she whined, more desperate than she would want to. He crooked his finger inside her and turned that whine into a moan.

“I could cry,” he continued, although he was practically sobbing already. “So warm, so soft… So delicate… Such a delicate, beautiful thing you are…”

“Come on, Francis,” she encouraged, back in control, hands going to his head. “Give it a kiss…”

Francis let himself be pushed downwards, but he didn’t obey. He just kept touching, finger moving with gentleness and caution, ears obsessed with hearing an objection that wasn’t coming.

“So, so delicate,” he repeated, and this time, he broke down.

“Francis…”

“I’m sorry, my dear, I… I can’t…” He gave up, wrapping his arms around her hips and hiding his face against her belly. “I tried, but… I can’t do this. I can’t hurt you. I can’t… It’s so delicate…”

“Well, Francis, your penis is delicate as well, but I’m not afraid to touch it.”

He cried harder and that was when she realized there was no way to dance around it. Nothing they could do.

“I’m so, so sorry.” He shook his head while going back up, holding her and weeping on her shoulder. “The thought of causing you pain… I know you don’t mind, but I… I do…”

“It’s okay, darling,” she said, something strange in her voice, too monotonous even for her standards.

Francis’ sobs quietened until they disappeared. He went quiet, just sporadic ‘sorry’s leaving his mouth. And suddenly it came to his mind… She wasn’t hugging him back. She wasn’t rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades or patting his love handles. She was just… laying there, arms immobile at both sides of her body, legs stretched.

“A-are you okay?” he asked, quickly removing himself from on top of her, scared that he was crushing her.

Nanny Ashtoreth’s eyes didn’t moved from the ceiling for a second. Then she turned to him.

“Are you okay?” he reiterated.

She sniffled and sat up like it was nothing. Francis really wanted to believe her.

“Certainly,” she said in her usual tone. “Please, dear, pass me my underwear. Oh, and my nightgown, if you don’t mind.”

He obeyed as fast as he could, waddling around the room in search for her nightgown while she put her knickers back on. When he returned and handed it to her, he had the impression that whatever had taken over her hadn’t left completely. Fortunately, it looked like it did once she was dressed in her night clothes.

“Well,” he laughed, uncomfortable, “I suppose I should leave you to…”

“You don’t have to go just yet… if you don’t want to, that’s it.”

Francis wetted his lips, even more confused.

“You… want me to stay?”

Nanny shrugged.

“I mean, you can stay for a while if it’d make you feel better. You’ve had quite a day and…”

“I’d love to,” he smiled, getting back on the bed, by her side.

She turned her back to him.

“Just for a while,” she warned him. “Until you feel better.”

“Of course.”

They both laid on their sides and he moved a bit closer, chest inches away from her back and hand resting against her stomach. She gave him a cold look over her shoulder.

“Just because it’s… the day after Christmas.”

He kissed her cheek and they fell asleep. In his last moments of consciousness, Francis felt her shift and reach towards the bedside table.

After she did that, he could swear he heard music.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope British say the small pond thing, otherwise this chapter doesn't make any sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some semi-fluff, although it's not free from a little 'angst'. Hope you enjoy. Also, quick disclaimer: I'm from Uruguay and if the country's political situation during the forties did anything to the wine industry in Australia, I never heard of it, just thought it'd be funny.

“Oh, dear, wouldn’t it be lovely to spend New Year’s Eve in London?” Nanny Ashtoreth said, the afternoon that followed their failed attempt at… whatever that was.

Francis raised his head and eyebrows. He was laying on the floor, right in front of the couch and shirtless, her feet resting on his belly. There was a reason behind it, something about improving his posture, but at that point it was clear that they just enjoyed it.

“Would it?” he asked, not sceptical, just curious.

“I think it would.” She shrugged, turning the page of her new favourite book —something about the political situation in Uruguay during the forties and how it affected the wine industry in Australia—. “A change of air. We’re always doing the same things.”

“You don’t like it?”

Worry crystalized inside him and she soothed him with a stroke of her foot over the curve of his stomach. Of course she knew he was on the verge of _purring_ every time she did that.

“I certainly do, darling. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But, still, we might use a little holiday. Besides, I can’t say I wouldn’t also like to skip the celebrations in town, and you know as well as I that we won’t be able to do that if we stay here.”

Francis’ mouth twisted as if to say ‘fair enough’. He still had his doubts, though.

“I see where you’re coming from, but… Dearie, London? Of all places? It’s such a big city…”

“Yes, and that makes it even better. We won’t have to worry about what people think or—”

“What if we get lost?”

She would have gave him a look for interrupting if the question didn’t surprise her so much.

“Oh, Francis, how old are we? We won’t get lost. And you seem to have forgotten that I used to live in London until this year. I could drive around town with my eyes closed…”

“Please don’t do that…”

Sighing, she helped him get up and on her lap. Francis wasn’t fully comfortable with that at the start —he didn’t want her to break a leg under his weight—, although soon he realized she could take it. Now, there was no place in the world he’d rather be… especially London.

“Tell me, dear, what scares you?” she pouted, hands on his cheeks.

“I just… I haven’t been there in quite the long time,” he admitted, looking down. “And I… I really don’t want things to change.”

Nanny Ashtoreth frowned, confused.

“Why would things change?”

“I told you, London is a big city. And you lived there and you seem to like it. I don’t want you to decide you like it more than here and… and leave. I love our life as it is.”

A hand on his chin made his eyes move up to hers again. Even through her glasses, he could tell she had the exact same expression as his —perhaps more dignified—.

“Oh, you silly boy,” she chuckled, kissing the tip of nose. “Why would I do such a ridiculous thing? How could I possibly like anything more than this?”

Francis desired to give up and forget about it. Just let the reassurance of her words wash over him and drag him into her embrace, as usually. But his fears wouldn’t leave so easily this time.

“You’re… you’re a big fish in a small pond.”

“Well, 1.85 is certainly tall for a woman, but I can stop wearing heels if that’s what—”

“N-no, dear, please, just… Don’t.” He shook his head, troubled. “You’re a smart girl, you know what I mean.”

Maybe understanding that the correction of the word ‘girl’ would bring him too much distress at the moment, she finally focused on what he was saying.

“You’re not a small pond, Francis,” she replied, serious. “This… We are not a small pond. Nothing about this feels like a small pond.” It was her turn to lower her gaze. “In fact… this might be the biggest pond I’ve ever been in.” She huffed a short laugh that was supposed to be incredulous, but came off as exhausted. “It… almost scares me, to be honest, how… big this pond is. I’m not sure of what to do with such a… big pond.”

Francis smiled fondly and, despite all the voices in his mind telling him it was a bad idea, reached out to kiss her forehead. She must have been in a good mood or too vulnerable to refuse, because she not only allowed that, but also gave him the freedom of wrapping his arms around her shoulders and bring her as close as their position and heights would make it possible.

“I think we should book a hotel room, first of all,” he sighed.

She broke the hug to stare at him, not quite grasping what he meant.

“In London,” he clarified, that sincere grin still on his face. “It might be difficult to find one too close to New Year’s Eve.”

And another grin bloomed on her lips.

“I believe you’re right, dear. We should absolutely do that.”

However, all the urgency that their conversation implied aside, they reserved the rest of the afternoon to stay just where they were, holding each other.

It sure was a lovely pond to be in.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip to London, part 1.
> 
> Warning for the author not knowing shit about pub culture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm so sorry I took so long with this. Life keeps getting in the way. I haven't taken a warm shower in weeks and we have three months to leave the house (although is almost taken care of, so don't worry). I'm not very proud of this chapter, but I hope you enjoy.

They arrived in New Year’s Eve’s morning, sometime between eight and eleven. Francis woke up to the noise of the car stopping in front of a small restaurant and Nanny Ashtoreth’s gently announcing they were there.

He was confused for a couple of seconds, partially because of his semi-asleep estate and also because he didn’t recall them stopping at any moment while they were on the road. As far as he remembered, she could have been driving all night without resting.

When he questioned it, though, she effortlessly brushed it off.

“Of course I parked to sleep,” she said, arm around his as they entered the local. “How could I drive and sleep at the same time?”

Francis chuckled and shook his head, as if he himself couldn’t believe he had such a silly thought. The pure naturalness of visiting a place like that to have breakfast with a woman whose company he enjoyed was exhilarating. He couldn’t care less about the loud noises and sheer swiftness of city life, as long as it was this easy. Just the pressure of her side against his and the winter shy sun on her hair.

He also didn’t mind that she ordered for him, mostly due to the fact she knew exactly what he liked and how he liked it, but also because he appreciated to be taken care of in such a firm way. She probably noticed, too, judging on the smile her eyes gave him over her glasses and the edge of a cup of tea.

“So how are you liking London, darling?” she asked after several minutes of comfortable silence, observing he’d been looking out the window in pure fascination for a while.

“It’s a lovely city, I should say. A bit intimidating but…”

“You enjoy things that are a bit intimidating,” she completed with a grin.

Francis blushed and looked down to his plate, toying with the food there.

“I suppose I do.”

* * *

An hour later, they were parking at the hotel to leave their luggage. Since the reservation was made far too late for the proximity and importance of the holidays, they had to settle for a very humble establishment, nothing to do with the fancy places Francis believed London was full of.

Not that it made it less of a good place to stay at. If you asked him, it was the kind of cosy he craved, and he suspected that was the reason why Nanny Ashtoreth chose it. All the way through the small lobby and up the stairs, he didn’t do anything but gasp to every little detail, be it a picture on the wall or a plant he deemed interesting. The biggest surprise, though, came when they arrived to their room.

“There’s only one bed,” he said, mouth hanging open.

“Oh, well,” she replied, unaffected as she opened the curtains of the small window, “I can take the couch, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Francis choked.

“Oh, no, no, it’s not… _I_ can take the couch, if you want the bed for yourself. It’s not a problem. I just figured—”

“Figured what?” She turned back to him.

“Weren’t you… weren’t you against sharing a bed? Isn’t that reserved for special occasions?”

“Isn’t New Year’s Eve what you would call a special occasion?”

“I… I guess…”

“Then we should be fine. It’s big enough for both of us, don’t you think?”

She moved to the bed in order to inspection it, fluffing the pillows in her preferred fashion —she simply couldn’t trust another person to do it like that— as Francis stood immobile.

“I wish I had a clearer idea of where your limits are,” he admitted.

She looked at him over her shoulder, frowning in perplexity.

“Did you say something, dear?”

Another day, Francis might have pretended it was nothing. That day wasn’t today.

“Yes, I… I wish I knew more about your boundaries. Not the reason behind them, but just… I feel like a lot has changed and I’m really scared I’ll do something you won’t like.”

“Trust me, Francis, if that was the case, I would tell you,” she dismissed, focusing back on the pillows.

“Would you?”

And, just like that, her attention was back on him.

Francis held the eye contact as steadily as he could, although the shock on hers made it hard to achieve. Nanny Ashtoreth looking uncertain was almost more alarming than her confidence. He wetted his lips and stood by the choice he made. He just had to change tactics.

“Now that we’re discussing that, I believe… I have a new boundary.”

“Oh?”

“Y-yes, it’s…” He sighed. “I don’t want you to be fully naked when I’m on top.”

Silence. Francis stumbled his way further into the reasoning.

“Nothing too nerve-wracking, it just feels… very close to penetrative contact? It’s way too… too close. So I’d rather… I’d rather you kept your stockings on at those times. Or any garment you want, but not… not fully naked.”

Nanny Ashtoreth remained silent for an instant, like she expected him to go on or apologize. Then she smiled way too fondly for what he had said.

“It’s perfectly alright, darling. We don’t have to do anything you’re not okay with.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. And I hope…” He forced himself to smile, too. “I hope you know that goes both ways. I won’t ever do something you’re not okay with. But you must tell me.”

“Of course.” She returned to him and wrapped her arm around his. “Now, shall we get going?”

Francis nodded and they left the room, an unclear feeling floating between them. A feeling that didn’t stop him from catching her staring at him a couple times, always looking away when his gaze met hers. He grinned anyway, to make sure she knew he wasn’t against it.

* * *

They spent the rest of their day driving around town, her showing him every iconic place he had read about on the papers and seen on television. He lived in London once, of course, but his contact with the actual city was so superficial and sporadic he could hardly call that living. There was a lot to see.

When they stopped by the St. James Park, they sat on a bench and Francis decided to go get some roasted peanuts. As he offered an unsolicited second cup to Nanny Ashtoreth, she gave him the usual ‘thank you’ kiss. Except this one didn’t land on his cheek, but on his mouth.

“You… you kissed me…” he huffed a confused laugh, eyes travelling from one spot of the landscape to another.

“I certainly did,” she agreed. “Shouldn’t I have?”

“Oh, no, that’s not… that’s not what I… It was just an observation.”

“A very interesting observation,” she frowned, focusing on her cup of peanuts.

“It’s not that I mind, really,” he insisted, sitting by her side. “I’m sorry if I… It’s just not something you do often.”

“That’s not true. I kiss you on a daily basis.”

“Yes, but not… not in public. Never in public.”

“Well, London is a big enough place,” she stated, looking around at the groups of people paying no attention to them. “I don’t expect anyone to care about our public displays of affection… as long as we keep it decent.”

“We sure will! I… I mean… It’s true that no one seems to be that involved, but…”

“But what?” She stared at him over the edges of her glasses, making it harder for him to articulate what he was thinking.

“I assumed you wouldn’t want anyone to… get the wrong idea,” he sighed.

“Which is what, exactly?”

“That we… that you and me… that we could ever…”

She pushed her glasses back up and turned to the front, ready to let go of whatever he was trying to make clear.

“I won’t do it again.”

“That’s not what…” A new sigh. “Ashtoreth…” He took hold of her hand, her eyes widening at the mention of her name minus her old title. “You can kiss me whenever and wherever you want. I’d be honoured to be seen in public as whatever they want to see us as with very few exceptions. And if that’s something you feel more secure about in London… Well, please keep in mind there’s not a lot of things I’m opposed to.”

Nanny Ashtoreth stared down at their intertwined fingers and then back to him. During the shadow of an instant, Francis saw something in her eyes that, to him, seemed fairly close to fear, but it didn’t take long before leaving.

“Of course you’re allowed to kiss me in public,” he remarked with a gentle smile. “You kissing me is the… the most wonderful and enjoyable thing someone has ever done to me.”

A wicked grin appeared on her face.

“Then I’m not doing my job right.”

* * *

They went to a pub that night. A special New Year’s Eve quiz was planned to take place and Nanny Ashtoreth sounded pretty excited to take part when she told him about it. Francis simply found it endearing that she could get so much thrill from something so mundane in appearance.

As they walked into the establishment, he noticed a few couples, men with their hands on their partners’ lower backs or waists, and hesitated before trying the same thing with his own company. Once his reluctant fingers wrapped around her left hipbone, she exhaled a playfully surprised chuckle and looked at him like he was turning into a different person. Maybe he was.

They shared a table with two more couples with which they were also teamed up for the famous quiz. Pleasant people by all means that seemed honestly fascinated by them. It occurred to Francis they might think they were also married, but he and his arm resting on the back of her chair did nothing to correct them. The way Nanny Ashtoreth herself answered their questions about the kind of life they shared —where they lived, what they did to earn money, what they actually liked to do…— suggested that she wasn’t planning to clarify either.

“Oh, I love you,” one of the ladies —the one with the American accent who had far more drinks than she could handle— giggled at her. “You’re like a real life Mary Poppins.”

Nanny Ashtoreth nodded and chuckled, but leaned to mutter at Francis when everyone else got distracted:

“Who is that?”

Francis froze.

“Um… Mary Poppins, you mean? It’s a character played by Julie Andrews.”

“Julie Andrews…” she nodded once more. “ _The Sound of Music_? Same actress?”

“Yes.”

“I see…”

Getting closer to midnight, they were recognized as the winners of the quiz, mostly thanks to her and her astonish range of knowledge —which didn’t extend to Mary Poppins, which Francis could still not believe—. However, they didn’t get to celebrate too much before she expressed her desire of returning to the hotel.

“Are you sure, dear?” Francis said. “Wouldn’t you like to see the fireworks?”

Nanny Ashtoreth tilted her head.

“Wouldn’t you like to give me a proper orgasm this year?”

Thirty seconds later, they were back in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Nanny Ashtoreth not knowing who Mary Poppins is so funny to me? Please leave kudos so I know I'm not alone on this.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, IT'S TIME FOR DINNEEEEEEEEER
> 
> Took three months to cook it, so enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I'm very, very sorry. I've been through a lot. We're still on the verge of being evicted and we have to leave on Fabruary, 22th. As you can imagine, I didn't feel like writing most of the time. And I'm not super proud of this chapter, but I hope it's worth the while. If you want to... eh, be friends or something, you can find me on Twitter as datcheesycake <3

“Tell me, darling,” she murmured against his cheek once they got into their room, helping him take his coat off, “would you like to try again? Eating Nanny out?”

Francis went still at the instant, hands falling from her waist as she moved on to kiss his mouth. Her lips didn’t leave his as she looked at him under long lashes and added:

“You don’t have to if you’re not—”

“I want to,” he said, pulling back with a serious, almost desperate expression. “I want to please you, dearie, I really do. But…”

“But what?” She brushed a solitary tear off his cheekbone.

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you with… with my teeth.”

He frowned when he heard her chuckle.

“Oh, dear… what do your teeth have to do with anything?” She shook her head. “It’s not about teeth…” A kiss. “It’s about lips…” Another. “And tongue…” A third one, clouded by a new mischievous chuckle. “And you’re very, very, very good with that.”

Every repetition of the word ‘very’ came with a kiss. By the time she was over, they were on each other again, his hands returning to her sides as if his insecurities had disappeared.

“S-still,” he insisted, breaking apart. “You know I don’t have a lot of control over…”

“Well, if you’re so worried about that… I might have a way for you to do it without needing a lot of control.”

His eyes widened.

“Do you?”

Nanny Ashtoreth smirked and ran her hand down his face and neck.

“I could ride you.”

Francis choked on his own spit and she had to help him sit down at the feet of the bed. Aside from that, he took it fairly well.

“You mean… my mouth?” he asked in a weak voice.

She shrugged.

“If that’s all you’ll allow me, I’ll be glad to take it.” And giggled at his reaction. “It’s fine, sweetheart, I’m just playing. But… yes, I think I’d like that.”

“I’m not sure I understand how it works.”

“It’s really quite simple. You lie down right there…” She gestured at the other side of the bed with her head. “Get all nice and cosy, pillow all fluffed just how you like it, and I…” She got closer, cupping his chin with the hand that wasn’t holding his, thumb pressing against his lower lip, “sit here.”

“On my face…” he sighed.

“That’s all there is to understand.”

“I get it, but… w-what do I do?”

“Oh, dear, what do you do?” she smiled fondly and rested her mouth against his. “It’s the easiest part. You just do everything we do when we kiss.”

Francis exhaled a soft giggle when she trapped his lip between her teeth and pulled gently.

“I don’t think I should do that,” he joked, tense yet lovingly amused.

“At least not down there,” she clarified, that grin that used to make him so nervous back.

“I… I believe I’d be willing to give it a try. If you’re sure…”

“Great. I’m absolutely sure.”

She leaned forward, ready to get back to work, but Francis softly pushed her away.

“I’d like to shave first, though. Just for… more safety.”

“But I love your facial hair,” she pouted. In very rare occasions she allowed herself to be just plain childish and he cherished those episodes with his whole heart, but that word overshadowed everything else.

“I can always grow it back,” he beamed.

“I’m going to hold you on that.”

So it was settled. He rushed to the bathroom and shaved it all off. It wasn’t something he did often —he almost preferred hiding behind those sideburns, perhaps believing that people couldn’t tell if the ‘wrongness’ of him was something he had on or something he was— and he stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes to convince himself he looked fine. He also washed his teeth twice in fear he’d give her an infection if he didn’t clean them properly.

When he came out, she was waiting for him, on the bed and wearing nothing but her underwear and stockings. Oh, that never got old, did it?

“Close your mouth, darling, that is not the game we’re playing,” she grinned, lying on her side. She gestured at him with her index finger, an invitation. “Come here, and show me some skin, too.”

He obeyed, kneeling on the bed beside her as she sat up and helped him out of his shirt, lips finding his. She chuckled into his mouth as his hands automatically went to her back, unclasping her bra and taking it off.

“My, I knew I had to make you do some proper gardening. Those skills are showing.”

Francis laughed, wrapping one arm around her and letting his right hand go up to a rebellious curl on the left side of her face.

“May I undo your hair, too?” he sensitively tested.

Nanny Ashtoreth twisted her mouth and gave him a half-shrug.

“You’ll be disappointed,” she warned. “Every time I let you do it before was meticulously fabricated.”

She continued to warn him about it as he proceeded with the careful removal of every pin. “It’s not that appealing,” “it doesn’t work like it does in films,” “I use a lot of hairspray that I must wash off to return it to its natural texture.” He dismissed every single one of those concerns, even though they were somehow right.

It didn’t come down in the flawless fall that romantic scenes in films were famous for. It was indeed stiff and a day of running around in the cold weather didn’t help. That didn’t stop him from running his fingers through it, trying to unlock the thick rigid waves as he reassured her it was gorgeous.

“Enough of that, now,” she decided while he kissed her neck, moving to which appeared to be her side of the bed —how surreal it was to have side-of-the-bed thoughts after decades of not having someone to share his bed with…— “Step out of those trousers and give me what I paid for.”

It was also surreal to be teased like that. Aware of the fact he could back away from anything and nothing would change, but being able to laugh about it, too. The intimacy of that sort of joke, the familiarity with which they spoke to each other.

“If all this talk about eating isn’t make me a bit hungry, too…” she commented as he tossed his trousers away, his half-erection showing under the fabric of his briefs, a wet spot where the tip was pressing.

“I thought—” He gulped. “I thought my dinner came first.”

Her hands found his shoulders and pulled him down, the smirk returning to her face.

“I always come first, darling.”

“You do — _mngh!—_ ”

The authenticity of his confession flew right over her head before she pulled the rest of his way back to the bed, making him fall on his back beside her with her tongue inside his mouth. Nanny Ashtoreth was more of a sensual kisser, but when she kissed hard, Francis always ended up seeing stars. Not that there were many things she did that didn’t provoke that illusion.

Francis wrapped his arm around her neck and kissed back, shivering as her hand ran down his chest hair and he broke away when it travelled down to his underwear, playing with the waistband.

“Can I take a look?” she mumbled, voice like honey.

Francis was the one to take a look down at that, the slightest hint of his cock peeking under the cotton she was ready to get out of the way. His gaze met hers.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be about you?”

“I could use the inspiration.”

“No offense, dearie, but I don’t think you can get more… eh, inspired.”

“Everything is possible, even the impossible.”

“Heh, that’s a Mary Poppins quote, I think.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Now really, Francis, how many times will I have to hear that woman’s name before the year is over?”

“S-so sorry, I—”

“You better be.”

And she ended the conversation by pulling his briefs down to his mid-thighs, cock springing out in freedom. Francis watched her drink the view in, teeth caressing her lower lip like she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to disobey her own orders and do the exact opposite of what was planned.

“Oh, dear, I shouldn’t have,” she then said, coming back to her senses, so to speak.

“N-no, no, it’s okay. I… I was going to do it anyway. You told me what we were—”

“I should have waited for you to do it first. You didn’t even had the chance to agree.”

He silenced her concerns with an instant-long kiss, so innocent it was a miracle it didn’t kill the mood. Even Nanny looked surprised by the speed and simplicity of the peck.

“I seem to be agreeing now, don’t I?”

Well, that wasn’t supposed to sound like that, but if it persuaded her to throw her leg around his middle to straddle him and… wait a minute…

“Good,” she said, leaning closer to his face, as if her sex wasn’t inches away from his. At least she still had her knickers on, but the keyword there was ‘still.’ If she decided to…

“W-what are you doing?”

He didn’t wish to appear scared or distrustful, but one bad movement, one impulsive reaction, one excess of confidence, could trespass the biggest limit he could ever think of, and panic was faster than logic. During that split second, he felt like there was nothing Nanny Ashtoreth wouldn’t dare to do, and only her hand on his cheek could bring him back.

“Nothing you would hate me for,” she told him.

“I could never hate you. Not even… not even if…”

“Nothing I would hate myself for, then.”

He felt her body slide downwards, some wetness already showing as her privates dragged down his abdomen.

“You are very close to—”

“Francis, trust me. We can stop if you want, but I won’t do anything that goes against your morals.”

“It’s not that about moral any— _Jesus Christ!_ ”

His soul struggled to remain in his body when she reached her objective. The new position triggered so many emotions at the same time, that he had to divide it in parts to understand it in the most basic sensorial level. Her mouth floating over his, her breasts pressed against his chest… her sex brushing against the upper side of his cock.

“Is that okay, dear?” she muttered, as if she didn’t know…

All Francis could do was nod, which just added to her sort-of-adorable —just thinking the adjective felt like a death sentence— smugness.

She kissed him again and his hand planned to perch on her back —not too low. ‘Could’ and ‘should’ were very different things—, but the touch of her cunt as she lifted her hips and lowered them in long, agonizing movements, left him helpless, incapable of doing anything aside from gasping and moaning.

It was working, though. Francis was devastatingly aware of how wet she was getting, her knickers soaked to the point his erection could have recognized every little part of her if it hadn’t been overwhelmed beyond anatomy knowledge. Down there, everything felt the same, and it had no business making such a disconcerting thought so blissful.

The thing was… he was getting wet, too. Short shots of pre-cum exited the tip every time she fell down to the root. One time, a miscalculation changed the angle and the most prominent vein of his cock touched the conjunction between her leg and groin, that small space her underwear didn’t cover, the contact of skin making both of them moan. The ghostly hint of curls and the slick sneaking under the edge of her knickers only intensified it.

“I like you so much,” he whispered to the corner of her mouth, but he said it as if ‘like’ and ‘love’ were synonymous. He desperately wished they were, because she really liked him back.

“Are we ready?” she asked sweetly, thumb caressing his bottom lip as they kept grinding. “Or do you want us to do this for a little longer?”

What a question. He wanted them to do this forever. But that was not what tonight was meant to be. He could climax just from this and although she might be able to do it as well, he had promised her a different type of orgasm. An orgasm he was dying to provide.

“We’re ready,” he said, and added with a giggle: “we are going to run out of year if we don’t start now.”

Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t celebrate the joke nor seemed annoyed by it. Both her actions —getting off him, taking her knickers off— and expressions were neutral, convincing him that any possible outcome would have been fine by her. It was relieving, liberating even, how she never asked trick-questions. Knowing that every single one had the purpose to make him comfortable, instead of ‘proving’ him…

Women weren’t the manipulative creatures middle-aged and up husbands liked to believe they were, all those awful jokes inaccurate and mean-spirited. Francis couldn’t help but thinking that if Nanny Ashtoreth was his wife —or if he had any wife at all—, he’d never express about her in such a degrading way.

“Would you rather have me looking away?” he offered as she struggled with her stockings. She had put her underwear on before her gather belt that morning, so she had to at least unclasp them in order to get to it.

She froze and looked at him.

“You’re not on top.”

“Of course,” he agreed in a ‘silly me’ tone before she could regret what she surely perceived as a lack of respect for his boundaries.

“I’ll put them back on in a minute, though.”

Francis’ eyes evaded her through the rest of the procedure, although he had already seen most of what was there to see. He valued her blessing as much as her limits, but the agility with which she finished undressing and put her stockings back on showed him he made the right choice.

“It’s time,” she alerted him. “Lie flat on your back for me, darling.”

So he did. He laid down as flat as he could and didn’t have the time to get used to the reality of what they were going to do when her knees framed his face and the sound of her hands grabbing the headboard of the bed startled him.

She stared down at him, as superior and considerate as a goddess who comes to Earth to ask what she can do for her worshipers.

“Okay?”

And did he want to worship her. Now that he had her like this, he was achingly aware of how bad he wanted this; not recently, but for a longer time than he could ever know.

The view of her from down there, thighs around him and freckled skin shining under the dim light. Hair gleaming despite the day and products it had been subjected to, curls falling in more gracious waves. Her breasts, perky and challenging, yet out of reach. The proximity of her mound, so close he could almost feel those dark hairs tingling him. The smell of her arousal. The drop that landed on his chin.

“Okay.”

And then she began to lower herself and Francis couldn’t think anymore. The tickle of her bush abandoning his imagination and making its way into the sensorial world. That acid yet sweet taste he loved ever since he tried it dancing above his lips without even touching them.

“W-what do I do?” he babbled. She had given him a marvellous explanation, but only his hands seemed to grasp it, going up to her hips to help her stabilize.

“Use your tongue first, darling,” she specified, voice coming out shaky. “Not to rough just… _Ngk…_ ”

Francis didn’t wait for further indications before following, licking a gentle, experimental lick over the length of her slit. The smoothness and delicacy of it would never not amaze him. How could something that made him want to praise the work of the lord regarding humanity be sinful? Something so perfect, so carefully crafted yet singular could only be meant to enjoy, not fear.

“That’s good, dear. Just keep doing that. Kiss it a little, too.”

Yes, he could do that as well. Pushing his lips out until they became a pout, he explored the wet skin. Its contact felt even better this way. He planted a smooch or two in not-so-strategic spots, savouring the plushness under the hair that his fingers loved so much. Said plushness convinced him to go one step further, kissing with more fervour, not mere pecks anymore.

He was getting used to the idea he wouldn’t hurt her and every physical delight her body could bring evolved into outright ecstasy when combined with that security.

“Oh, I knew you’d…” she sighed, right hand tangling in his hair, eyes closed. An accidental slip of his tongue tickled a disruptive moan out of her. “ _Yes,_ do that again.”

Francis wasn’t very sure of what he had done, but it didn’t take long for him to figure out that his tongue ventured between her folds, maybe finding something that lots of people spent their whole lives searching for. A groan when he, in fact, did it again agreed.

“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Properly get in there.” She pulled him closer and lowered herself more to reduce the small space that was left between them. Her eyes opened to look at him. “And tap my thigh if it becomes too much.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

The gap was finally gone and now there was nothing to see —or touch— but her. He did perceived a change in the air, her smell mixed with the hint of a future lack of oxygen, but he had a signal for whenever he needed to stop and he knew she wouldn’t suffocate him… unless he asked for it. Not today.

If there was a specific moment in which he stopped holding back, he couldn’t put his finger on it. One second he was timidly running his mouth against her sex and at the next one, his whole face was buried in it, lips and tongue moving in clueless coordination, doing their best to meet her expectations even if they weren’t that high to begin with.

There wasn’t a part of her he couldn’t feel right now. He by no means could teach an anatomy class, yet he was more than capacitated to distinguish everything with enough concentration. However, the only thing he cared about was the small bud his tongue had brushed against, around which he started to draw light circles.

“Bloody genius…” she exhaled in a high-pitched grunt. Nothing separated Francis from smiling fondly at this but the permanent reminder of his teeth and how much harm they could do.

He didn’t fear them anymore, though. Nanny Ashtoreth was right; his lips and tongue had far more work and it didn’t differ much from making out. He liked making out. He was good at making out. He was good at this.

“So good,” she praised —could she really read minds?—. Her hips shifting, imitating the circles of his tongue. “ _Satan’s sake, it’s been so long…_ Fuck me, now.”

Francis went still.

“With your tongue, darling. Put it inside me and fuck me.”

Ah…

Her saying ‘yes, that’s a good boy’ —with the littlest hint of a hiss— came to his ears faster than the fact that he was doing it came to his mind. His tongue did what it had to do and the tight heat of her insides gapping around it received it well. Francis groaned in ecstasy, sending more pleasant vibrations up her body. He was nervous something would go incredibly wrong if he put anything in her, that they wouldn’t mix and it’d be strange and painful, but now, he saw his fears had nothing to do with it. They got along just fine.

An unknown hunger grew in his chest and forced his hands to her thighs, urging her downwards. She moaned as his tongue got deeper, wiggling inside her and finding spots of which existence Francis was barely aware of. This made her roll her hips with more abandon, fingers clenching to the bedhead as her cheek pressed to the cold wall.

That sudden change of position got Francis’ tongue out of her before he was ready to let go and it deliciously slid against her clit. He provided a second, third and fourth lick, taking a second between each one to hear her more than positive reactions.

“Fuck, and I thought I’d have to teach you… A finger, now, darling. Give me a finger. Keep doing that and give me a finger…”

If there was something he truly couldn’t refuse, was that. His thick index finger made its way inside her with astonish quickness, helped by her wetness and the tongue that circled around her sweet spot. He would never compare kissing her mouth to kissing her down there —it was all her, wasn’t it?—, but he loved it just as much now that he wasn’t holding back. It was almost too hard to switch from the open-mouthed kisses to chaste pecks and soft licks so he wouldn’t overwhelm her. He wanted it all at the same time.

“ _Yes, Satan, yes!_ Another one. Now, please, another one…”

He added a second finger and the whole world seemed to shake. Or at least the portion of the world he had on top of his face, which was slowly turning into the whole thing, may you excuse his cheesiness. She trembled and wiggled and whined… and that was his department, not hers, so what a great achievement it should be.

“ _Mmm, yeah…_ So good, so good… You’re going to make Nanny come, _ah…”_

The subsequent scream echoed louder in his ears than the hundreds of fireworks exploding outside, lighting the night sky with a variety of colours and shapes that just wouldn’t be possible in the smallness and humility of their South Downs village. However, even if there wasn’t a more interesting show going on right on top of him, he wouldn’t have been able to see anything. Because the unexpected rush of fluid coming at him in never-ending shoots wouldn’t allow him to open his eyes by mere sight preservation instincts.

When it stopped, he wasn’t fast enough to chuckle and comment on it before she collapsed —literally collapsed— to his side.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused without real accusation, too exhausted to move.

“Dearie, I think we both know I could never do anything on purpose,” he replied once he caught his breath.

“I’m not sure about that, you seemed pretty determined to make me come.”

“I’m always determined to that,” he smiled.

“Oh, we’re getting smug now, aren’t we?” she smirked. “Come her, dear, Nanny is so proud of you…”

She attempted to wrap her arms around him to bring him closer, and he went with it for a moment or two, but then he realized.

“Wait, darling, I’m still covered in your… um, squirt, was it?”

Nanny Ashtoreth frowned.

“A-and it feels like being baptized again, I mean!” he clarified instantly.

A grin took a while to cross her face as she finally pulled him in.

“It’s better.”

“It’s better,” he nodded, noses inches apart.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

They shared a slow, passionate kiss that extended itself for far too much time. Surprisingly, she was the one to break it.

“Alright, enough, go wash that before it starts to smell.”

“I’m still amazed you’re so… comfortable with it. I’ve met people… Well, I myself would be a bit pulled off by…”

“Francis, it came out of me. And to this very day, I haven’t found a substance in me capable of grossing me out.”

“And you won’t find it as long as we’re together, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t know that. I might be searching on my own. I can do quite well by myself.”

“But can you kiss yourself afterwards?”

“I’ve been told I’m incredibly flexible.”

They both laughed, unable to keep pretending the conversation was serious and giving up to the deep joy of the scene. Their fingers intertwined sometime in between and stayed like that once they calmed down, eyes on each other’s.

“Happy New Year, Nanny.”

“Happy New Year, Francis.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then I said "I won't ever write butt stuff", you know... like a liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So soon? Yes, this fucking soon. I can't tell you how it helped to get that last chapter out of the way. It felt like I've been working on it for centuries and it was blocking me so bad to know I still had to finish it. Now that it's done, I can keep pulling chapters out of my ass every time I feel like it. Thank y'all for your kind words, both for my fic and my current personal situation, I really appreciate it. Please find me on Twitter as datcheesycake <3

By the time they both had showered and gotten into their sleeping clothes, it was almost two in the morning. They were still up, however, victims of an irrational vitality that wouldn’t let them rest until they felt tired again.

Nanny Ashtoreth was reading a book about a complex political subject Francis would never understand, with his head resting on her shoulder. The television was on, showing images of other countries still waiting for midnight, and their legs were intertwined.

“What a way to start the year, wouldn’t you agree?” she casually mumbled, turning the page.

“Oh, absolutely,” he did agree, although he suspected they didn’t mean the same. For him, starting it with a cuddle, pressed against the side of a woman who cared for him as they did the most mundane night activities, was just perfect.

“I do feel a bit bad for you not having an orgasm, too, I must confess.”

He sat up and looked at her with a smile.

“Dear, it’s really not necessary. I appreciate your pleasure and company well enough.” She didn’t seem convinced. “Besides, it’s late and we’re old, aren’t we?”

Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled and left her book on the bedside table.

“We are,” she confirmed as they both laid down, heads landing on their pillows. “Such a shame we didn’t meet back in secondary school.”

Francis’ eyes widened at her words. That wasn’t something one would say as a synonymous of ‘we could have had great sex’ and nothing else. At least he wouldn’t. Not that he was a good example of anything, but…

“You wouldn’t have liked me,” he said without thinking, expression softening. “People say I was a prude.”

They laughed.

“Well, you got lucky, in my opinion. I somehow managed to simultaneously be the biggest skank in the United Kingdom and a virgin nobody would ever want to fuck.”

Francis’ grin disappeared.

“What? Too dark?”

“A bit.”

They couldn’t help but laugh again; a short giggle this time.

“I would have wanted to do it,” he admitted, voice suddenly filled with honesty and that word he could never use in the context of her. “If I wasn’t such a prude.”

“At the end of the day, I suppose it was fortunate that I met you when you were already an experienced man.”

“I bet I taught you a few things.” His chuckles extinguished rather quickly after that, the sincerity returning to his face and tone. “I still would… You know I would if I…” His voice cracked and soon he had her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

“Oh, dear, don’t worry about that,” she told him in that uncharacteristically sweet way she used when the situations —and his insecurities— got out of hand. She put one hand between his shoulder blades and the other one on the back of his head, letting him hide against the safety of her chest. “I’ve told you, penetration is ridiculously overrated.”

“Is it really?” he sniffed, pulling away. “I-I mean… have you tried it?”

Her face lost all expression in that instant.

“Are you serious, now?”

“N-no, you… you don’t understand. What I’m trying to say is… Um…”

“Oh.” The straight line of her mouth turned into an incredulous smirk. “You’re asking if I’ve ever pegged.”

“That’s what it’s called?”

“To be honest, I’m surprised you know it exists.” A pause. “Yes, I have. Several times, actually.”

“Um, sorry if I’m asking too many questions, but… both men and women?”

“Not at the same time; I’m not that powerful. But yes. Men, women and everything in between and miles away.”

“I see…” It was his turn to pause. “And is it… enjoyable for you, as well?”

“Very enjoyable, yes. It’s no secret that I like being in control.”

“No, but I mean… does your… your body enjoy it, too?”

She thought it over.

“Well, Francis, it’s not always about enjoying the things you do with your body. You can also enjoy them on a psychological level. Just what happens with… edging someone, for example.” He didn’t need to know what that was at this point. “On the other hand, a good strap-on does rub nicely against everything that requires rubbing, so… yes, I’ve came from clitoral stimulation while pegging. As I’ve told you, penetration itself is overrated.”

“I guess it is if you can’t feel anything in that… whatever you told me it was called,” he speculated once he took a second to analyse.

Nanny Ashtoreth shrugged.

“I can feel those things just fine with my fingers, if that’s what I’m interested in. Or with my tongue.”

“Oh, it does feel amazing on the…” he began before he could stop himself, and then stopped immediately, covering his mouth with one hand.

She grinned.

“Why this sudden interest in my penetration experience?”

Francis sighed.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s just nice to imagine it. And I wanted details ’cause it… it should make it easier, right? And if you say it is enjoyable even without a… um, a penis…”

“The thing is, Francis,” she started, “you have a penis right here.” She pointed downwards with her eyes only.

His cheeks coloured so intensely he felt like they could catch on fire.

“I still can’t…”

“I’m not saying you have to fuck me. We’re clear about how you feel about that and I would never force you to do it. All I’m saying is…” She took his hand between hers. “You do have a penis. And there is no law, holy or earthly, that prevents us from giving it some attention while performing other penetrative acts, even if it isn’t the main character.”

“I… Do you think so?”

“Of course. Also, you seem to be ignoring an equally important part of traditionally male-assigned anatomy.”

Francis licked his own lips, confused.

“Are you talking about my…?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my…”

“Is that a sin, too?”

“Not more of a sin that most of what we’ve already done…”

“Would you like to give it a try sometime?”

“I…” He gulped, avoiding her gaze. “I’m not sure…”

She rested a hand on his cheek to make him look back at her, a reassuring smile on her lips.

“Keep in mind I am by no means an amateur on these practices. I’ve done it several times, some of them with people who had never done it before and who were… I wouldn’t say terrified, since I wouldn’t have done it knowing that was the case, but… fairly reluctant, although consenting nonetheless. Every single one of those people left with a happy memory and a… what did that charming gentleman called it? ‘A paralyzing desire to do it again.’ So, just so you know, you’d be in good hands.”

“I’m always in good hands with you,” he corrected dreamily.

“Old flatterer.” She gave the tip of his nose a peck. “Well, in any case, think about it for a while and let me know what you think. I, for one, am in obsessive love with your arse and if you ever gave me your blessing to do whatever I wished with it, you wouldn’t know what hit you. Now we should get some sleep.”

Francis laid there, in shocked silence, as she turned off the television and set the remote control aside. He blinked at the darkness a few times as she got settled beside him, arm around his belly and his head too far gone to care.

He couldn’t say he was ‘fucked’, but he wasn’t put off by the idea of being it in the near future.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Francis is worried they might miss breakfast and Nanny Ashtoreth decides to have breakfast in bed.
> 
> Check the new tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Cheesecake finally faced her fears and wrote butt stuff. I'm kinda proud of how it turned out, since it's something I'd never do in real life (both giving and receiving end). I want to thank everyone who have showed support for me in my current situation, be it through nice comments or... eh, in Twitter (@datcheesycake). It really means a lot and you have helped me in ways I can't even describe. Also remind you that after February, 22th, I probably won't be around that much. Maybe a week before. So don't worry if you don't see me. We'll work this shit out.

A strange thing, waking up next to someone. At least something Francis hadn’t expected to ever experience since many years ago. The warmth of another body, of its breath mixing up with his. The slight pull on the sheets and the undefinable noises of a life in pause. But now that he had it, now that destiny proved him wrong, he knew he would never want to wake up alone again.

Of course, everything would go back to normal when they got home. Nanny Ashtoreth still had her own room and she surely was opposed to ditch it for something that undoubtedly exceeded the limits of their arrangement. That didn’t take any bliss out of the current moment, though.

“Ngh, good morning,” she said, eyes fluttering open.

He smiled at her, just realizing his hand was on her side but not brave enough to bring attention to it by taking it away.

“Good morning.”

She leaned forward to seal the ritual with a kiss. A short peck on his lips that he didn’t recognize as such at the instant. His hand left her waist so he could stretch and release a little yawn. Then he saw the clock on the bedside table over her shoulder.

“Oh, my, it’s so late!” he exclaimed, already getting out of bed. “We’re going to miss…”

She didn’t say anything, leaning up on her elbow and giving him a mischievous, patient grin as she slid the left strap of her nightgown down her arm. The cleavage was so pronounced it revealed her whole breast.

Francis gulped.

“I suppose it won’t kill us to eat somewhere else a bit later.”

And he got back under the covers, letting her pull him closer by the neckline of his pyjamas shirt.

“So easy,” she teased, throwing her arms around his neck while his surrounded her waist and shortened the distance even more.

“I’ve had over fifty years to be difficult,” he faked tiredness. “Let me be easy now.”

“That sounds fair.”

They laughed against each other’s mouths. To think that only a year ago he created an account in that awful application he barely understood, hoping to find someone to have around the house, nothing else. Then it started to become more complex, with additional types of company he might also enjoy.

No, he wouldn’t be opposed to be told what to do. In fact, it sounded lovely. Ever since he left his mother’s house, Francis had craved for someone to tell him what to do. The orders of his bosses during his working years were good —not that gratifying, but comforting anyway—, but once he found himself on his own again, all safety nets were removed.

On paper, having a woman he considered attractive to share his home with and who could guide him through what used to be unbearable loneliness felt like the perfect solution. He only realized how sexual it might be when he was so involved in the idea he couldn’t step aside.

And then he saw her. And she looked so scary and she was so nice. And he realized, almost on first sight, that everything he could do to keep her would be a better option than letting her go.

He could have never see it coming, though, what happened afterwards. Now, here he was, ten months later, laying with a half-naked woman in his arms, kissing down the column of her throat and joking about being ‘easy.’

“I’ve always said there’s nothing that having someone sitting on your face can’t fix,” she commented.

“I’ve never heard you say that before.”

“Well, I just couldn’t say that around you, could I? Wouldn’t want to upset you.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I’m a saint, darling…” She abruptly stopped talking when his lips wrapped around her nipple. “Oh.”

It didn’t even come off as aroused; just honest, moderate surprise. It made him chuckle a little.

“You wouldn’t let me pay them enough attention last night,” he reminded her, a sincere grin on his face as he looked up to hers.

“Oh, no, how could Nanny be so mean? Let me make it up with you.”

Prompted by her, they rearranged until she was on the middle of the bed, back to the bedhead, and he was straddling her legs. He stared open-mouthed as she pulled the straps of her nightgown all the way down, getting her arms out of them and pushing the garment down to her belly; her whole chest on display.

“Do go on, please,” she solicited with cold politeness.

Francis didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she finished the sentence, he was all over her, cupping her breasts with gentle hands, licking and sucking on one bud as his thumb caressed the other. She began to pet his hair, sighing approving words, and it relaxed him enough for him to really lay down, abdomen meeting the warmth of the rest of her body.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, sweetness growing on her tone. “And you were so reluctant about putting that mouth to good use, hm? I should have figured that once you started you couldn’t stop.”

He did stop for a second to look at her.

“It’s because it’s you.”

And he got back to it before her soft smile was complete, licking and kissing with even more abandon, if that was possible.

“Is that so?” she questioned, losing any hint of tender care now that she wasn’t being watched anymore. “Do you like Nanny’s taste that much?”

“ _Oh_ , I like _everything_ about you,” he almost sobbed around her nipple, the delight of pleasuring her too strong to be anything but divine.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Uh?”

She gestured downwards and his head seemed to spin as she lifted her knee.

“You’re humping my leg, dear.”

“I-I’m sorry!” he choked out, sitting up.

“Don’t apologize,” she grinned, running her nails down his chest, sinking the silky fabric of his shirt a little. “With all that happened last night, I didn’t get the chance to tend to you. And I can’t even tell you how painful it was to restrain myself from doing it. But we had another priority back then, didn’t we?”

“We did…”

“Well, do I have good news for both of us.” She suddenly switched their positions, pinning him against the mattress while grabbing his wrists. She then leaned closer to his face and whispered: “we don’t have anything else to deal with right now.”

Francis swallowed and it was her turn to spread kisses over his face, down his neck and —once she started undoing buttons— chest, moving lower and lower.

“Now we can make it all about you if that’s what you want, my darling,” she continued, breath hot against his skin, gaze on his. “Would you like that? Would you let Nanny take care of you? Please?”

The way she said ‘please’; not as a genuine plead, but the exact same ‘please’ people used when they were trying to get children to do what they wanted. She was teasing.

“O-of course,” he stuttered. “Always.”

“Mm, always,” she said with a subtle chuckle. “That’s a nice liberty to have, I must admit. Come on, then, get out of that shirt.”

He quickly took the mentioned shirt off, happy to do so, since the room was getting a bit warmer than he could bare, despite the weather outside.

She spent the next ten minutes providing gentle attentions to his belly. Every time she did that —which was becoming somehow rare as they discovered more risqué things they could do together—, it reminded him of the earlier days of their relationship, although it wasn’t an unpleasant memory. It felt good, seeing how far he had come. It also felt good to have his belly given attention to.

“This next, okay?” she proposed, lips still on his happy trail as she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his trousers.

“Okay…” he exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut while she pulled both his trousers and briefs down. His cock sprung out of them and a few drops of pre-cum were catapulted onto his stomach.

He didn’t have anything to do but opening his eyes when her gaze was too intense to ignore. She didn’t have to do anything; just looking at him would get her whatever she wanted.

“Gorgeous thing, aren’t you?” she observed. “Remind me to make you fuck something once we get home.”

Francis’ brain took longer than intended to process it.

“Sorry, my dear… what was that?”

“I said I have to make you fuck something when we’re back at home. A pillow, a toy, I’m not too picky.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to watch.” She shrugged. “I bet you’d make a pretty picture. But that’s for another time. Now we should be focusing on you getting rewarded for last night.”

He blushed deeply and saw her lower herself towards his cock.

“Eh, you really don’t have to reward me for…” He stopped when her hand grabbed his erection and put it inside her mouth. “Oh… _Oh…_ I-I suppose…”

“You might allow it?” she teased, popping it out again. “Feeling benevolent, are we?”

“Oh, n-no, I didn’t mean to…” She kissed down the side of his cock and made him bite his fist before continuing. “I… I think you’re the… b-benevolent — _good Lord_ — one for… for taking… for taking…”

“Care of you?” Nanny Ashtoreth finished, tongue travelling from the tip to the root of his member and drawing a line of spit between his balls, hand never ceasing to rub him. “As I should. You deserve it, darling.”

 _You deserve it…_ He heard her saying the dirtiest thing; those words shouldn’t make him shiver or moan like that.

“What am I here for, if not taking care of you?”

Francis looked into her eyes through his tears of overwhelm.

“You deserve to be taken care of, too,” he susurrated, voice cracking.

“Yes, but you already did that, didn’t you?” A long suck, from base to head. “Aren’t we so good to each other?”

“W-we are…” he half-whined, throwing his head back to the pillows, fingers clenching to the sheets. “God, we are…”

She sat back up on her knees, although her hand was still doing what her mouth dropped.

“Please don’t feel pressured to agree, but would it be okay for me to go lower?” she consulted, all playfulness abandoning her speech.

Francis stared at her, perplexed.

“Do you mean my… um, my testicles?”

“I love those, too,” she chuckled. “But I was thinking a little lower than that.”

“I see…”

“Somewhere I haven’t touched you yet.”

“I see.”

“We don’t have to. Not this soon. I apologize. We only discussed it last night and you said you’d think it over. Perhaps I didn’t give you—”

“I’d love to,” he spelled out, victim of his own impulses rather than his mind. “Now, even, I think, b-but… am I… Do you think I’m clean enough?”

Nanny Ashtoreth raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, Francis. Are you?”

He turned even redder at the implicit accusation he himself had brought to table.

“I-I believe so! I know I… I wash properly, at least. But is it… Is that enough?”

She remained silent for a second. Then twisted her mouth and stood up from the mattress.

“Oh, well, in any case I’ll try everything once,” she decided, walking around the bed to grab something from her bedside table. “Believe it or not, I’m one of the seventeen people in history who have been through rimming abstinence… twice.”

“ _What_ abstinence?”

She came back seconds later with a bottle she popped open. Lube, according to the discreet label. _Lube…_

“Do you… do you usually carry this sort of stuff around, my dear?”

“Why, of course, one can’t be too prepared.”

“Heh, no pun intended, right?”

She side-eyed him, rubbing some lube between her hands to warm it up.

“I don’t get it.” Francis flushed and closed his mouth. “My vagina does that for me.”

“And it’s… eh, remarkably good at that job.”

“You’re one to talk.” She nodded at his raging erection. “Can we focus now?”

“Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be, darling, just tell me if it’s warm enough.”

Brother Francis shivered as she pressed two lubed-up digits against his nipples. She hadn’t even touched him there and he was already losing it.

“Never feel ashamed of losing it too soon, it means the actual losing-it-worthy part will be more intense.”

“Sorry, did I say that out loud?”

“Did _I_ say that out loud?” She sighed. “Just tell me if it’s warm enough.”

“Um, well, I… I’m not sure. It seems warm, but I don’t how warm it needs to be to go up my—”

“Let’s just give it a try and see how you like it, okay?” He gasped as her fingers went around his cock again. “I touch your cock to distract you from the first contact. If you find it overwhelming, please let me know.”

Francis showed his approval as best as he could. Nanny Ashtoreth smiled at him and her left hand went up and down his member, the familiar sensation effectively distracting him from the new one that was about to unleash. He tried to close his eyes and relax, but the initial touch of her wet finger drawing circles around his hole made him jump.

“Too much, too much!”

The finger disappeared. Her left hand also stopped masturbating him.

“Which one should go?”

He licked his lips, uncertain and panting.

“Left,” he finally chose.

And left did in fact go, patting his belly to comfort him, which worked better than expected.

“Okay, then. It might feel odd and that’s nothing to worry about. You could realize it’s not the moment and that won’t mean we won’t ever try again… unless you really don’t want to. More than anything, it’s pressure. Expect pressure, but not pain. You’d make it easier on both of us if you stayed relaxed at all times. First instinct is to squeeze; avoid it if you can. That’s what could make it hurt.”

“Understood.”

“It also won’t hurt because I’m going to be extremely gentle and you’ll enjoy it, yes?”

Francis giggled at that.

“Yes.”

All laughter vanished when her index finger brushed against his hole once more. Nothing too extreme, just tracing the form of it, yet that part of him was so untouched everything had an almost intolerable amount of change. Nanny Ashtoreth was aware of it, holding his hand and focusing on his expressions, as if the littlest alteration could make her end it all. He knew she would.

“Don’t squeeze my hand, just use it for comfort,” she told him. “Every single muscle needs to be completely relaxed so I can open you up without resistance.”

“Okay.”

‘Okay’ might be an exaggeration. Sure, he was ‘okay’, as in ‘having a fairly good time despite his inexperience’, but his cock was painfully hard and it was all so new and exciting he felt on the verge of tears. Nanny Ashtoreth must have noticed his conflicting emotions, because she looked particularly serious when she said:

“Don’t obsess over sexual gratification. Think about it as kissing and hugging; it’s enjoyable and it can be arousing, but it doesn’t have to.”

“I guess it might be… — _oh, my…—_ an acquired taste,” he rushed out, already getting what was meant to be ‘enjoyable’ about it.

“Lucky there are no rules about how quickly one can acquire it,” she joked. “I want to go in now, see how you stretch. Keep in mind I need you to sit through quite the long car ride so I won’t take it too far.”

“Thank you.”

“Enough of that. Deep breaths and no contractions.”

Breathing deeply and avoiding contractions turned out to be easier on paper. At least with somebody sticking a finger up his bum. Not that Nanny Ashtoreth was being anything but careful and considerate. It was more of a natural reaction; a first instinct, as she warned him. Noticing he was having a hard time, she slowed down and paid close attention to his face.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” she requested, sitting between his legs for better access, even if it meant she couldn’t be by his side anymore. “That’s it, dear, just relax. Don’t fight it.”

“I’m not fighting.”

“Don’t fight it.”

“I’m not…”

And as her order and his reply started to grow quieter, he got his breath under control and could relax at last. He only had a small fraction of her finger inside and, although her hands were big, her fingers were thin and precise. He zoomed out for a moment and quivered.

“Strange or painful?”

“Strange, I think…”

She shifted the angle by a couple of millimetres.

“Now? Strange or painful?”

“S-… strange. Almost… almost painful.”

“Then we need more lube. Perfectly normal.”

The emptiness her digit left behind was worse than any pain she could have inflicted, but it was too late to regret his sincerity. However, once the finger went back in —lubed-up to his specific needs, this time—, it did with far less resistance on his part. To be honest, even the ‘strange’ adjective seemed more positive now.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“What?”

“You just made a happy noise, dear.”

“I’m a… uh, happy person?”

“I like to hear that even more.” She changed the angle again and now… now the ‘strange’ had become a state of blissfulness. “See? We’re figuring it out. I haven’t had a virgin in a while myself, so it’s not easy for me to catch your rhythm either.”

“I’m sorry I… I’m so complicated.”

“Oh, don’t be, darling, you make such a pretty picture.” Her finger did what he could imagine was a ‘quotation mark’-kind of gesture and he squirmed. “Very clean, too. Cleaner than the average heterosexual man.”

“Thank you so much. It’s been worrying me.”

“I know. Let me see if I can convince you to stop worrying once and for all…”

“Oh, that’s exactly what you’re— GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN WHAT IS THAT?!”

She put her hand on his chest to make sure he wouldn’t suddenly change position out of surprise and smiled.

“That should be your prostate.”

Whatever it was, her fingertip grazed it again and Francis thought everything would be finished right then. His desperation pulled the mattress cover out of place and almost made him bump his head against the bedhead, but nothing mattered.

He did apologize, though.

“Please don’t. The first time someone found my G-spot, I accidentally kicked him on the teeth.”

“Oh, I… I hope he’s okay,” he managed, unsure of how to reply to that through the fog of his arousal.

“In retrospective, he deserved it. Had a wife and a child back at his hometown. Always forgetting my name. And I even told him I _needed_ him,” she laughed, shaking her head. “How pathetic is that?”

If he was unsure about how to reply to her first statement, that last piece of information left him more than clueless. It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop moaning and moving around.

“Well, you’re only twenty-five once, thank Satan.” She lowered herself on her front. “Now, if you don’t mind, there are more productive activities my mouth could be performing.”

This time, he got to nod before she left him speechless. How? How were there so many men who refused to do this? What was there not to like about it? Although his prostate clearly missed the pets, her tongue sliding against his gaping hole and pushing inside was just as good. Meanwhile, her hands went up and down his thighs, bending him in ways he thought out of reach for his body for better access.

“How are we feeling?” she asked as if she didn’t know the answer, pulling back and replacing her tongue with the previously used finger, which didn’t have trouble locating that damned spot now.

“So… _oh_ , so great…” He bit down his lower lip and huffed an ‘ngh…’ sound before adding: “You’re great. You’re just… — _ah, yes, please!_ — great, my dear.”

Nanny Ashtoreth laughed to herself. She didn’t get it. Francis knew she didn’t get it. So he had to insist.

“You’re so, so great at… at _everything_. Every single thing you do. And I… _Mngh_ , I thank the Lord every day for giving me this. The… the _miracle_ of you…”

“Do you honestly want to talk about your old friend right now?”

She was right; he shouldn’t. It was illogical and out-of-place to even think about the Lord in terms of a woman doing such sinful things to him. But it still seemed correct, somehow. Natural. It felt natural to thank the Lord for allowing him this —maybe for _sending_ him this—, because a memory this perfect could only be God’s work.

And it made him wonder: how many sins could actually be God’s blessings for him? To be treated so kindly, to experience so much pleasure. Having a woman on top of him, enjoying herself, indulging in… same old him. Being called dear and sweetheart and darling. Finding someone so concerned about his safety and comfort, despite their own desires.

Were Adam and Eve conceived with rings on their fingers?

“You’re close, I can tell,” she grinned. “Would you like me to accelerate the process or would it still be too intense?”

Francis just nodded his head and soon his body met the mattress in an easy, slow fall. There were two digits inside him —he didn’t remember when the second one came in— and the usual lips wrapped around his cock.

He came in about thirty seconds. The best orgasm in a lifetime of abstinence and shame.

Nanny Ashtoreth stayed beside him through the drop, running her clean hand’s fingers through his hair and peppering his face with innocent kisses.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I? I can go to the drugstore and get you some magic cream if—”

“I’m okay, thank you.”

He wasn’t thanking her exclusively for that offer. One could even say his thanks weren’t exclusively for her.

The truth was he didn’t feel any pain or discomfort whatsoever, he was in a hotel room in a city which size and life used to terrify him, and getting kissed by the most wonderful woman on Earth, who could have anyone and she still chose him.

If that didn’t qualify a miracle, his whole belief system was built on anticlimactic lies. And Francis saw that climaxes were good.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth doesn't understand what's so great about Mary Poppins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! :) Just a cute little scene I couldn't fit into next chapter to get you through the night. Don't expect anything great. We'll go back to our regular programming (angst and intense shit) soon. Thank y'all so much for your support and help <3

“I don’t understand what you see in her,” Nanny Ashtoreth dismissed as the end credits rolled, standing up from their couch.

Francis followed her into the kitchen.

“Well, eh, dear, I don’t _see_ anything in her. She’s not real.”

“Of course she isn’t. The mere concept of a woman wearing a classic 1950s silhouette in the Edwardian era is absurd. Now help me peel those vegetables. Your silly film will make us have dinner as breakfast if we don’t hurry.”

With a hint of giggle in his voice, he obeyed. An unusual sight; Nanny Ashtoreth jealous of someone. He didn’t want to make fun of her, though.

“I suppose they dressed her that way so she could dance.”

She frowned, nose wrinkling with disdain.

“Not so magical, if she couldn’t dance in historically accurate skirts.”

“Only the character is magical, dearie. Julie Andrews is a regular human being. She wouldn’t be—”

“Julie Andrews,” she repeated, thoughtfully, and shrugged. “Now that’s a woman I can appreciate. Not in this role, of course. A respectable lady, if you ask me.”

“So you just don’t like Mary Poppins.”

“I clearly don’t. And I have no clue what gave you the impression I might enjoy her…” A pause. “Oh, for Satan’s sake, I forgot the cilantro. Be a dear and take a look into my bag, it might be there.”

Francis did as he was told and walked to her handbag, settled on one of the chairs by the kitchen island. He reached inside.

“It’s empty.”

“Look again,” she told him without turning around.

He tried once more. This time, his hand noticed wood, metal, fur and something that tried to bite him. Finally, a plastic bag with cilantro.

“Here it is.”

“All boys are the same, they just don’t know how to search,” she clicked her tongue, amused.

Francis returned to her side and kept helping her, now looking at the handbag over his shoulder.

He was sure it was empty.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love's what happens when you're busy getting pegged by a satanic version of Mary Poppins (don't tell her I mentioned that horrible woman, tho).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YESSSSS, BUTT STUFF! TAKE THAT, MY OWN ABSURD LIMITATIONS! I hope you enjoy this chapter. To be honest, I didn't expect to enjoy writing it as well. These bitches are soft and they make me soft. Please leave comments and if you want to talk to me or ask me to write you something, you can find me on bloody twittah: https://twitter.com/datcheesycake
> 
> Love you!

About a week since the day they returned from London, Francis told Nanny Ashtoreth he might be ready to try what he called ‘the real… n-not the _real_ real thing, but more or less the real thing.’

The fact she could make sense out of his babbling deserved a standing ovation.

So here they were, two days after that semi-conversation: him laying on the middle of his bed naked and her sitting beside him, facing him, her mouth on his as she gently caressed his chest. They’ve been making out for about half an hour, although Francis couldn’t tell. Their kissing sessions often felt like some sort of limbo where time meant nothing and was extremely hard to follow. Before that, he took a nice shower and only stopped washing his… eh, other private parts, when he realized it was starting to feel too good. That was not his job tonight.

“Tell me, dearest, are we ready?” she asked, lips around his lower one, trapping it and letting it go, which she liked to do to tease him.

Francis nodded. All her attentions had made him light-headed, prisoner of a tender lust that wouldn’t let him stand up if he wanted to. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to.

“Okay, turn around,” she ordered, sitting up on her knees. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, taken aback. “On your stomach. It’ll make it easier.”

“Oh,” he said after a while. “Is it… is it mandatory?”

Nanny Ashtoreth seemed confused for a second or two and he regretted questioning her. He was about to apologize when…

“Well, it does provide better access and more control. That’s all.” She smiled. “Would you rather see me?”

He blushed.

“I… It’d help me be more… eh, comfortable, to see you. It would be… yes, comforting.”

“Then it’s decided.” She grabbed a pillow. “But I still need to put this under you, so lift your hips.”

So he did, allowing her to slide the fluffy cushion under his bum, the sensation of being exposed becoming somehow more intimidating in this new position. As he tried to get used to it, Nanny Ashtoreth reached over the bedside table for the already opened bottle that seemed to work the first day of the year. However, on closer inspection, Francis noticed it wasn’t the same; the design of the label was different.

“Same brand, but better for what we’re going to do,” Nanny explained, spilling some of its context on her fingers and showing them to him. “See? Far more liquid. I know you struggled last time.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized without thinking.

“I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry. The need to make some accommodations as we move forward is natural. Now look at this, tell me what you think.” She reached under the bed this time, and what she put out almost made him choke. “Good?”

It was it. The… thing she was going to put inside him. Not too big, to his relief, but scary out of pure novelty nonetheless. He assumed all things new would be scary, with very few exemptions.

“Only three fingers, darling. See?” She pressed three fingers against its side to prove it. “Perhaps a bit less. If you can take three fingers, you can take this.”

Francis gulped.

“Are you sure I… I can?”

“We’re about to find out.” She put the toy aside and patted his belly. “Relax for me, dear.”

Luckily, he had an easier time doing it than before. Maybe because the safety and familiarity of his own home helped, or he just knew what to expect and, deep inside, believed in himself. At the end of the day, everything was about him having a good time. The least he could do was whatever he could to enjoy it.

When Brother Francis realized he might be submissive —not a sudden revelation, but a succession of small changes—, he didn’t fully understand what the whole deal was about. Sure, letting someone else take the wheel was nice and gave him the feeling of stability he craved; but when it came to be genuinely, unavoidably excited, he didn’t get it. He wanted to be told what to do because he needed it as he needed the air he breathed; finding pleasure on it or not… that didn’t matter.

Nanny Ashtoreth changed even that. With her, it wasn’t only reassuring to obey; it was _satisfying_. Satisfying in ways he thought he’d never be. He really trusted her that much and, more than that, he liked following her indications. Not in the sense of ‘it’s what’s best for me’ that tainted his younger years, but an honest will to please her and leave everything in her hands, that now spread him open.

The touch of her fingers in his most delicate area was as good as he remembered, if not better. This time, he was relaxed. Truly, thoroughly relaxed. And his mind was set on the prize. His last orgasm felt so incredible he couldn’t wait to experience that again. Just thinking about it…

“Go ahead,” she encouraged.

Francis blinked his eyes open. Nanny Ashtoreth grinned and nodded to his hand, travelling down his belly and stopping right above his groin without permission. His cheeks started burning.

“Do it,” she insisted. “You’re allowed. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

The way she said it: enjoy yourself… as if he was something to be enjoyed. As if he had every right to enjoy his own body. Taking credit off her and what her fingers were doing and putting it on him, on the flesh and skin and nerves that allowed him to feel so much. She’d never know how he loved her for giving him that.

Reluctant, he wrapped his hand around his cock and tugged. At some point, a third finger had entered him —he always missed that second one, didn’t he?— and he found himself undeniably full. He seriously hoped it was enough, because he couldn’t take any more if he wanted to. He kind of did, but that wasn’t part of the deal.

“That’s it, darling,” she praised, free hand going to his hip, thumb drawing small circles on the bone. “Be kind to yourself.”

It wasn’t just about masturbating with his preferred technique. She wanted him to treat himself kindly all the time. Not a single negative thought or a mean comment about his appearance. Not feeling like less than her ever. All he knew was, whether he could do it or not, he still liked to obey.

“How are we feeling?” She shifted the angle so the tip of her index was brushing against his prostate, making him whine. “Ready to find out what all the buzz is about?”

He could only show his agreement with his head, tongue tied. Thank God she didn’t require more confirmation.

The sight of the toy did something to his stomach. In a second, his insecurities were threatening to reappear. Was he ready? Truly? Was being physiologically ready enough? It had to hurt. Or, at least, the pressure and stretch had to be weird.

 _No_ , he thought. _It doesn’t have to hurt. Painful and weird aren’t synonymous. One is normal and the other isn’t._

Nanny Ashtoreth put on the harness and he could see her shiver as the base met her sex. So it was one of those…

_If it hurts, she’ll stop. It doesn’t have to hurt. If I relax, it won’t hurt. Weird isn’t painful. Weird isn’t painful…_

The tip of the toy touched his hole, of which he was strangely aware. Yes, it was weird. It was very weird.

_Weird is not painful…_

She pushed in, just an inch. His muscles stretched around the intrusion.

_Don’t squeeze. Squeezing is what makes it hurt. Relax. Relax. Relax._

“Okay?”

_Deep breaths. Deep breaths and relax. Deep breaths and relax._

“Okay.”

Her hands went to the back of his thighs, pushing them further apart, making a way to go deeper. Francis focused on his breath as his eyes filled with tears. Not tears of pain, but of disorientation. Everything seemed so different, like there were things that everyone knew and the universe kept hidden from him until now. Technically, it was indeed the case, but it didn’t make him sad or angry or worried. Just confused. Confused and…

“I’m going to start to move.”

_Overjoyed…_

“ _Ah…_ ” he sighed.

Nanny Ashtoreth smirked.

“What was that?”

Whatever she did to get that noise out of him, she did it again. He didn’t sigh this time. No, no, he _moaned_. A moan so open and desperate, he had to cover his face in embarrassment immediately after. She wouldn’t allow that.

“Look at me, Francis.”

He did; first through the windows between his fingers and then without any barrier, hands falling to his sides. She was beyond beautiful. Her hair down, her eyes hooded, her breasts reacting to the movement as most breasts were expected to do. And that look on her face.

She sometimes looked at him like that. Like he was special. Like he made her happy and sad at the same time, if that was possible. Usually, it went away as soon as he reflected on it, but not now. Now, they were too far gone into each other to care about those things.

“Keep touching yourself, dear,” she prompted, every word framed by a thrust of her hips that forced the toy to rub against his prostate. “I want you to come.”

It happened so fast from there. A combination of the order and the stimulation provided by his fist and the dildo. She lowered herself on top of him and it somehow bended just fine —what was it even made of? The more Francis thought about sex toys, the least he understood them—. Her nipples ghosted over his chest, his fingertips traced the subtle shape of her ribs and her breath was hot against his cheek.

“Come for me, my darling,” she whispered between soft, wet pecks. “Come on Nanny’s cock.”

God said esoteric topics such as magic spells were a sin and should be avoided at all costs. God was not there, so Francis paid it no mind and came on his own belly.

She didn’t pull out just then. Instead, she gave him a couple of minutes to relax enough for her to leave, her panting mixing with his, faces still so close. She chuckled as she finally exited him and licked a long stripe of sweat off his cheekbone.

“Good boy.”

Francis instinctively wrapped his arms around her in a fashion that even took her by surprise. He didn’t want her to go away; not by an inch, not for a second. She slid up him a couple of centimetres so they were on the same level and he found himself shockingly okay with the fact their sexes were almost pressing against each other. If he could get hard again so soon, he would have been aching at that moment.

Feeling blessed, he shut his eyes and got ready for sleep to take him. He was seconds away from unconsciousness when she attempted to get up, although he held her still.

“I need to take care of you, sweetheart,” she spoke in the gentlest tone possible. “You’ll be sore tomorrow otherwise.”

“I want you to stay…” he begged, more to his exhausted self than her.

“I’ll be back very soon.” And she added: “I can sleep here tonight if it’ll help you.”

That promise was what convinced him. He would have done it anyway, since he wouldn’t like to make her uncomfortable, but he was glad he got such a lovely deal out of it.

Already on the verge of falling asleep, he felt a new wetness between his legs and shivered, his hole still sensitive.

“It’s cream, Francis. I told you I didn’t want you to be sore tomorrow.”

He gave in into the pleasantly cold feeling, a few content sighs escaping him. He was so tired he couldn’t stay awake for one more instant. He did manage to remain conscious until he noticed her pressing against his side, kissing his bare shoulder, though.

“Lovely little thing you are…” she muttered, as somnolent and disconnected as him. Absent and present at the same time.

Francis thought he would die right there. Needless to say he wouldn’t mind going to Hell over this.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Francis starts questioning what it means to 'be a virgin' and accidentally ruins his non-wife's mental health.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Francis makes a dumbass mistake that is way more awful than your average dumbass mistake and triggers Nanny's traumas related to past sexual abuse. No ill intentions, he's just that awkward and didn't think twice, but beware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this chapter... just... this chapter, ok? Mind the warning, please, be safe. Hope you enjoy (if that's possible) and follow me on Twitter (datcheesycake). Thank you <3

His body didn’t complain until he stretched as he woke up, but even then it was a light ache, nothing too bad. He could only imagine what would have happened if he haven’t let Nanny Ashtoreth ‘take care of him’, as she put it.

As soon as her name came to mind, he looked to the other side of the bed, hoping to see her. And she was still there. She could have left when he fell asleep, and yet she chose to stay, only moving to put on her nightgown and grab the book she was reading now.

Francis couldn’t help but cuddle against her side, following her index while she used it to mark the current line, although it didn’t last long. Soon enough, her arm went around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

He shut his eyes in warm bliss. It was magic, knowing it was so cold outside and how a year ago he woke up alone, prepared for another day of… whatever he did before he met her. Who would have guessed his life could change this much?

“How are you, my dear?” she asked, gaze still fixed on the book.

“I’m… I’m okay, I believe,” he answered after thinking it over. He didn’t expect it to be so hard to explain; he never anticipated such obvious question. “A bit sore, yes, but—”

“I mean emotionally, Francis.”

“Oh.”

That was even harder to explain. He sat up as she looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Well, um, I’m not sure… I-I don’t feel bad or anything! Just… different, I suppose.”

“I see,” she nodded, focusing back on her reading.

“Is that normal?”

Nanny Ashtoreth shrugged, not out of despite or mockery, but an honest ‘I don’t know’ gesture.

“Oh, I think it definitely is,” she finally confirmed. “At least for people who put a lot of weight on the concept of virginity.”

 _Virginity…_?

Francis stared at her with a puzzled expression.

“What do you mean?”

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, darling,” she replied, setting her book aside. “I respect your feelings and your belief system and whatever convinced you there is something wrong with pre-marital sex, but… You must admit, it’s easier for a person who thinks stopping being a virgin changes you to… Well, feel different after they do just that.”

His heart sank, his ears buzzing. He didn’t want to say anything right away. He needed to think. Surely she wasn’t implying…

“I-I’m still a virgin, dearie.”

He tried to straight up and his behind protested. Wasn’t it what women went through when they lost their…?

“It doesn’t matter to me,” she attempted to calm him down. Although it didn’t work, Francis was very good at hiding it. He didn’t want her to feel guilty for… “I personally think it makes no sense, to be honest. It must have been fine for maids and gentlemen who saved themselves for arranged marriages, but in today’s society… it creates lots of unnecessary Schrödinger’s-cat-esque situations, doesn’t it?”

Francis remained silent.

“For example, you: are you a virgin or not? It depends on who you ask. You’ve done things with other parts of your body. We had penetrative sex. But is it the kind of sex that invalidates your virginity? Are vulva-owners who only have sex with other vulva-owners technically virgins?”

He analysed it and he could see how she was… right, more or less. Didn’t God punish everyone who got involved in sexual sin equally? Were people who succumbed once or twice to what Americans called ‘third base’ as guilty as someone who lived in constant, conscious immorality? Did Nanny Ashtoreth, a woman who undoubtedly did that, deserved the same as someone who abused people?

“So I’d rather think about first times as what they are: first times,” she continued. “No moral charge, nothing is taken away from anyone… Most times, that’s it. If everything goes as it should.”

“So you didn’t feel any different when you had your… eh, first time?” he questioned without a second thought.

His first instinct when he realized what he had done was cover his mouth with both hands. Nanny Ashtoreth, however, didn’t seem that upset. She just stepped out of bed and put on her silky robe with her back to him.

“I didn’t feel anything in particular,” she said, her voice not even wavering. A shrug followed her words. “I was glad I didn’t have to worry about that anymore, that someone else made that decision for me.”

All blood left his face at that. Of course he’d love not having to worry about that anymore, but he was certain it wasn’t a decision for someone else to make for one. He felt terrible for asking. His chest hurt at the memory from seconds ago and how he should have bit his tongue.

“I’m sorry I—” he tried to say, as if it would fix everything.

“We should go get breakfast,” she concluded. “I’ll take another shower first. Don’t try to walk right away; relax for a while and the pain will ease.”

He almost corrected her, revealing he wasn’t in actual pain —just a superficial bother—, but he resisted and watched her walk out the room in silence. Something told him that the pain she was trying to convince him would ease, was her own.

Francis understood at that moment that he would do everything in his power to make it disappear.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Francis treats his lady right.
> 
> Warning for (still) some thinking about past sexual abuse, deserved cheating (not between our main couple) and Carl making a come-back, which should be a warning by itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda happy with how this chapter turned out. My housing situation is sadly still delicate, so I don't feel like writing too often. My grandmother (our only hope, since she's got money) told my dad she wouldn't give anything to him unless he left my mom and I, so... yeah, not gonna happen, grandma. So it's a lose-lose situation at this point lol. Thank y'all for your kind words and please find me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/datcheesycake

Days passed before Francis could really get to work. During said days, he could tell something had changed between them. Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t acting like herself; she seemed constantly distracted and didn’t attempt to start the most remotely sexual interaction, even though there were hundreds of opportunities to do so. She wasn’t mean or anything, just disconnected, no matter how much effort she put into treating him with kindness —and he knew it was a lot—.

To say he felt awful was an understatement. With every second that passed, he thought of himself like more and more of a monster. Why? Why did he have to be so stupid? He was aware of how her first time went, why bringing it up?

The worst part was that, thinking about it, his mind didn’t go to her as much as it did to what that man had done. Deep inside, despite his Christian morals, he wanted to go find that idiot and remind him of the clueless girl he hired to look after his children and decided to force on the kitchen’s floor instead. He was sure he wouldn’t remember. His eyes would probably go to the distance for a moment, trying to connect the dots, to put a face back on that ‘funny’ story he must have told his business partners and friends for years, those minutes of pleasure that would haunt her forever.

But that wasn’t only not very Christian-like; it was also selfish. It kept making it all about the abuser and how he made Francis feel, not her. The important thing now was to show her how she deserved to be treated, not the people who had mistreated her in the past.

And he planned it all out. For all those strange days, he had been scheming, carefully crafting a strategy to give even just a tiny portion of what she lost back to her. So one fine morning, as they had breakfast, he informed her about it.

“Would you like to go out tonight?”

Nanny Ashtoreth blinked at him. Oh, it did sound better in his head…

“Where?” she asked with a straight face.

“Um, I was thinking… having dinner? There’s a nice restaurant in town. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s nice. So I thought we could—”

“It sounds fine by me,” she agreed. “But wouldn’t we need reservation?”

“Uh, yes, we would, but… but I made one.”

“I see.”

“W-we don’t have to go!” he quickly clarified. “We can just stay at home or do something else if you’d like. I just—”

“Oh, no, we should absolutely go. It’d be good to leave routine for a while.”

Even though he liked routine well enough, he had to agree. Anything to make her happy.

* * *

That night, at about seven pm, Francis put on his best suit —the only one he had— and waited for her at the living room. For the last half an hour, his stomach couldn’t decide if he was nervous or hungry. If he knew himself as well as he should, it was both. Yes, this wasn’t the first time they went out together, but nothing they had ever done felt more like a proper date than this.

He was just starting to become comfortable with the whole concept of having his first date in his fifties, when Nanny Ashtoreth exited the hallway in what could only be described as Princess Diana’s revenge dress on steroids.

Francis’ head suddenly felt light.

“Not my usual style, but I hope it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Too bad?” he struggled to say as he stood up from the couch. He then walked to her and held her hands. “Darling, you look stunning!”

Nanny Ashtoreth clicked her tongue and looked away.

“No, I mean it, you’re…” _Easy…_ “Eh, well, shall we get going?”

“Why, of course. We shouldn’t risk our reservations, if that place is as exclusive as you made it sound.”

As she took hold of his arm and they left the house, he worried he might have overhyped it. No matter how classy that cute little restaurant was; nothing could ever come close to what she deserved. At least, nothing that he could offer.

He was willing to try, though.

* * *

For the rest of the evening, Francis behaved like nothing less of a gentleman. He ran around the car to help her get out, held every single door open for her and, once they got their table, he pulled her chair for her to sit. By the third gesture of chivalry, she had to chuckle and point it out, but he didn’t step back. The more she realized he was being nice, the better.

The restaurant was lovely, with Italian inspiration, candles and climbing plants everywhere. The people who ate there —some familiar faces, some tourists— were accordingly dressed, but it was classic formal attire, with clothes that seemed out of the 80s and 90s. No one wore anything like the dress Nanny Ashtoreth had on and Francis felt quite proud of having her as his date —more than usual, anyway—.

As they waited for their food —his pockets complained at everything on the menu, but that wasn’t important—, they talked about their lives before they met. Although it wasn’t a new topic, Francis soon found out he didn’t know quite enough about the thing she valued the most: her vocation. So, this time, he put his mind into asking the right questions and listen with attention as she answered them.

“Oh, there haven’t been _bad_ kids,” she said at one point. “I don’t think there’s such thing or even ‘good’ kids. They’re just children and usually get blamed for the mistakes of the adults around them.”

“But you sure have a favourite, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course, let me see… The last one before I retired, I believe. Warlock Dowling.”

“The son of the American cultural attaché? Thaddeus Dowling?”

“The same.”

“Oh, dear, that’s unbelievable!”

“Francis, Thaddeus Dowling isn’t by any mean the most relevant person I have ever worked for.”

“N-no, I mean, I worked for that family, too!”

Her eyebrows raised.

“Really?”

“Yes! About ten years ago, when they first moved to England.”

“Small world we live in.”

“You can say it twice.”

“Such a shame we weren’t there at the same time,” she sighed as the waiter put their plates in front of them and served them wine. “Oh, to have pegged you on that damn rosewood desk he was so in love with.”

“Nanny!”

“What? He was asking for it. Insufferable little man, Mr Dowling. He even touched my arse once, when I was walking by him at a New Year’s Eve party.” She took the first bite of her risotto. “So naturally, I had to seduce his wife.”

Francis choked on his food.

“Harriet?!”

“That’s her.”

“No way! She was such a sweetheart.”

“That she was. Also a terribly repressed lesbian.”

“Oh my…”

“It worked out in the end, though. She eventually dropped the loveless marriage and started dating women. Quite the scandal and I believe it made it even better for her. She said she owes me a lot. Not that it was a chore; I fairly liked her. I’m sure she would still send me Christmas cards if I had told her I moved out.”

“You’re incredible.”

“Oh, please, Francis, what would you have done?”

“N-not that…”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m not judging you! I think it’s great that you helped her out of that situation and… that’s what you do best, isn’t it?”

“That and vaginal fisting.”

“What?”

“Forget it, you’ll never know.” She took a sip of her cup of wine. “Still would have rather pegged you on his desk, to be honest.”

The confession warmed his heart up. Also the fact she was okay with talking about sex again. For the longest time, he thought he’d never hear her brag about everything she could do after their last discussion. How wonderful it was to see her comfortable in her own skin once more.

He remained shocked, though.

“Harriet Dowling…” he repeated in a quiet voice. “Never noticed anything…”

“Of course not. You are a man.”

“Yes, but still…”

They were soon interrupted by a seller Francis knew frequented fancy places that couples enjoyed. He offered him a single rose for him to give to his presumed date and Francis wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to buy her a rose, obviously, but would it be appropriate? He looked at her in search of approval.

“Would you like one, dearie?”

Nanny Ashtoreth put her elbows on the table and her chin on top of her intertwined fingers.

“I don’t see why not.”

Francis turned back to the florist.

“One rose, please.”

The man gave him the flower, took his money and wished them a delightful evening as he walked away. With the rose in her hands, Nanny Ashtoreth admired it with an unimpressed expression and then grinned at Francis.

“What I’m trying to understand now is how you found out it’s my birthday,” she teased. “I didn’t put the exact date on my profile.”

The former gardener blinked.

“Your… birthday?”

“Oh, don’t play the fool with me. You clearly knew. Why would you do all of this if it wasn’t a special day?”

 _Because I love you_ , he should have said. _I didn’t have any idea of what day it is and everything I do is just because I love you_. What he really said was:

“Um, you do look like a Capricorn?”

A smile bloomed on her face.

“Aquarius, but close enough.”

They both laughed. Once the hilarity of the moment died, Francis decided to go back to the previous theme of their chat.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Being a nanny.”

“I’ve never stopped being a nanny.”

“Yes, but I mean as in… a nanny on duty.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t think I do. It’s still something I love, but I’m not in that place anymore. My place now is… here.”

Francis melted. He literally melted. Well, that ‘literal’ was also figurative, but…

“I do… sort of miss it from time to time. It might be the only thing I’m really good at.”

He snorted and she gave him a glance.

“Oh, you’re not joking.”

She shook her head and Francis wished he could hide between his shoulders until he shrunk and disappeared.

“It’s a great feeling, knowing oneself is needed by other people. I always tried to make myself needed, I suppose. Turning myself into the perfect nanny and into an… object, yes, of sexual desire at the same time. Sometimes… it is extremely difficult for me to deal with the fact I’m not needed anymore.”

Francis’ heart ached. He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed, looking into her eyes.

“You still are.”

She huffed an unbelieving laugh, eyes rolling again.

“I mean it.” He looked down. “You know? It’s quite the opposite for me. In my hometown… it was all about how we needed each other. We couldn’t, um, exist as people? I needed my mother and my teachers and my preacher… Having to look at them in the eye and tell them I didn’t want to need them anymore was worse than any story they told me about Hell.”

“And now you need me,” she sighed as if she didn’t like to think about it, as if she was hurting him just by existing.

“No, darling, that’s not the thing. Needing _you_ … it feels like a choice. Not literally, alright, but it’s… enjoyable. I don’t feel miserable needing you. It makes me glad you’re here.”

“That’s what feels so strange about it.” She wetted her lips and avoided his eyes. “It’s not the same anymore. Knowing that you ‘need’ me… it’s scary.”

If she had stared at his face instead, she would have been able to tell how his gaze filled with concern and ache.

“Why?” he asked under his breath, desperate. “Dearie, what’s so scary about it?”

She took a deep breath.

“That I could—”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my two old friends, Brother Francis and Ms Ashtoreth.” Someone walked to their table.

_Oh, no…_

Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t even look at him, eyes and whole body to the front.

“Hello, Carl.”

“Good evening,” Francis said politely, yet unusually cold.

“Wow, you two are looking good!” Carl commented, although it was clear he was only considering her. “Special day?”

“It’s my birthday,” she explained, distant.

“Oh, and how old are you turning? Let me guess! Twenty five?”

That ‘innocent’ joke was what finally made her look at him, mercilessness burning on her expression.

“So disappointing,” she clicked her tongue. “Wouldn’t they teach you that in college, not to ask a lady about her age?”

All blood left Carl’s face at that.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t seem the type to…”

“Who says I’m the type to get offended over that?” She drank another sip of wine, stare leaving him. “Perhaps I simply don’t like you,” she shrugged.

“A-and what brings you here?” Francis questioned, trying to take attention from the tense chat.

Carl looked back at his table and took a second or two before answering in a natural tone:

“Oh, I’m kind of seeing someone myself.”

“Ah…”

“Yeah, a great woman. Maybe you’ve seen her on telly. She was the weather lady, I think. The one who was also a model, remember?”

Francis vaguely recalled a beautiful young lady of long blonde hair and what more informed people would call a perfect fashion sense. Not his cup of tea —his cup of tea was sitting right in front of him—, but still surprising that she would date someone like Carl. Carl used to be everything he wasn’t —at least in his mind—, but the more he thought about it, the more apparent it turned that he was not a person to be jealous of. After all, he wasn’t the one having dinner with Nanny Ashtoreth.

“She’s in the bathroom now. That’s why I decided to… you know, sort of drop by and see how you were doing. Haven’t seen you since the Christmas party.”

“We haven’t gone out that much since then,” Francis revealed.

“We spent quite a lot of time in bed,” Nanny Ashtoreth added.

Both Francis and the man blushed, the latter one almost choking on his own spit.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he repeated, uncomfortable.

“Well, you already saw us,” she said. “I think you shouldn’t keep your date waiting. If a man ever did that to me… I would have to punish him.”

As far as Francis knew, Carl could have muttered ‘good night’ as he left with his head down or not. Nanny Ashtoreth then threw her fork on the plate and pressed a tissue against her mouth.

“And I think we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

Francis nodded absently, still looking at Carl’s table. She touched his forearm.

“Shouldn’t we?”

He jumped.

“Oh, yes, you’re right, dear. Let me ask for the bill.”

While they waited for it, Nanny Ashtoreth felt the urge to apologize.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, when Carl was here. My only intention was to put him in an embarrassing place, but I didn’t take your potential feelings into account.”

“It’s fine, dearie. I… I got a good chuckle out of it, I must say.”

“That makes two of us.”

The bill arrived and Francis paid, rejecting all her superficial attempts to split it. As they were living, he walked slightly in the front with her arm around his, and turned around when he heard a loud bang behind him.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Just when Carl’s date was walking to their spot to join him, all four legs of the table gave up and it collapsed, miraculously not hurting him, since he was already sitting there. Carl also couldn’t believe it and his first instinct was to look at Nanny Ashtoreth. Francis grinned to himself as he watched her smile at the man —a harmless, kind smile that didn’t show teeth— and move her nose like a witchy character in an old American sitcom.

Both smiles followed them into the car.

* * *

The Bentley pushed into the driveway at about twelve am. The weather was freezing and it would start to snow at any time, but it was fairly warm in there. Francis beamed, unsure of what to say.

“I hope you had a—”

Suddenly, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him to kiss him. Hard. When they broke apart, he didn’t even know how to breathe anymore. She pressed her nose against it and grunted:

“My birthday was three months ago, you’re an awful liar and if I’m not fucking you in the next ten minutes, I might not live to see another birthday.”

Despite the shame of having lied to her and the natural bashfulness of getting caught being kind ‘for no reason’, he was deeply relieved and happy to have her back.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SUPER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: EXPLICIT DISCUSSION OF PAST SEXUAL ABUSE, A LOWKEY PANIC ATTACK AND ALL THINGS TRIGGERING. BE CAREFUL <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say about this chapter. If any of you went through something similar, know I'm always here to talk. This chapter is dedicated to all sexual assault victims who think they should be over it by now. Your pain is valid <3
> 
> Please find me on Twitter as datcheesycake or Tumblr as anxietycheesecake. It's rather important.

Despite her wishes regarding what she wanted to do to him and how soon, they stayed in the car for a while, kissing. Francis didn’t take long to realize it was an exemption to a strict vehicle protection policy and appreciated she was willing to risk it, even if it only meant she would sit on his lap and put her tongue in his mouth.

“We should get to bed if you want me to fuck you,” she said breathlessly after a while, although she was the one to express that wish.

Francis smiled through his panting.

“I’d love that, my dear, but I had something else in mind, if that’s okay by you.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You do?”

He nodded, chuckling and pressing his forehead against hers for a moment.

“Yes, um… And you’re absolutely allowed to refuse!”

“Naturally.”

“Well, the thing is… I’d like to, if you don’t mind, that’s it, uh… dedicate some time… minutes or hours, anything would do, to… k-kiss you all over?”

She frowned in utter confusion.

“We’ve done that before, haven’t we?”

Francis blushed so hotly he thought his face would explode.

“N-not exactly, dearie. I’ve kissed you in… in lots of places but never… eh, never really committed to kiss every inch of you.”

“I see.” She still seemed puzzled. “And why would you do that?”

“Because it’d… make you feel good?”

She twisted her mouth, thinking it over.

“Fair enough,” she conceded. “Let’s go inside, then.”

Francis could barely believe what was happening as he followed her through the garden, towards the backdoor, which was closer to the garage. He had her blessing! With that, there was nothing he couldn’t do, nothing he couldn’t say… aside from the already known restrictions on both parts. A great deal, in his opinion. He almost didn’t know what to do with so much power.

Then she kissed him after they walked through the door and he suddenly knew exactly what to do.

They were making out again, the excitement of the wine and the delicious meal in their stomachs still thrilling them, forcing them to act an awful lot like teenagers. That’s how they tried to cross the kitchen, keeping the embrace, lips never leaving each other’s. That’s when something went wrong.

The mix of darkness and adrenaline with the slightly alcoholised state they both were in made Nanny Ashtoreth trip over nothing and fall backwards. Francis went after, landing on top of her. Nobody attempted to break the contact, or maybe he did at the start, before she pulled him back in. He ran his hands down her sides while hers were on his tie, holding him in place, and out of nowhere…

Her hands fell to both sides of her head. And he continued to kiss her during a second, but she wasn’t responding anymore. And she also had stopped making those little noises that drove him crazy. And he put himself up on his elbows and noticed her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, blank and distant.

If his PE teacher from secondary school had seen him getting up as quickly as he did…

“Dear!” he exclaimed. “W-what’s wrong? What’s—”

“Nothing, nothing,” she told him, coming back to reality and struggling to stand up. Francis offered her a helping hand but she ignored it. “Just…”

She shook her head. She seemed… disoriented, like she wasn’t sure where she was or whom she was with. Someone could have thought they were complete strangers seeing that scene without context.

Something cracked inside Francis’ chest when she sighed, exhausted.

“Just bad memories, I suppose. I-it’s nothing.”

She walked around the room like a caged animal as she rubbed her temples, breath still heavy.

“Should I turn the lights on?” Francis suggested.

“No, no!” Even in the darkness, the panic in her eyes was visible. They were teary. “I’m alright, dear, I promise. It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing.”

“Well, you don’t have to believe me, no one has to believe me…” Her voice broke down at the middle of the sentence, leaving place to uncontrollable sobs that he would never expect to hear from her. It was like seeing an upset child.

“Let’s… let’s go to the living room,” he decided. “Let’s do that, alright, my dear? Let’s get you out of here.”

He luckily didn’t have to put a hand between her shoulder blades to guide her. Even in her state, she understood it was the most rational thing to do. However, she didn’t sit by his side on the couch when they reached the living room and it became filled with the dim light of a lamp. She kept walking instead, in the same concerning circles that worried him almost as much as her quietening crying, on the verge of disappearing.

“Darling, please stop, you’ll make yourself dizzy. Come sit with me.” He patted the stop beside him.

Nanny Ashtoreth stopped, arms wrapped around her middle, and shook her head. He scooted over the very end of the couch to make more room for her.

“Here, we don’t have to touch, there’s enough space for both of us, see? Please sit down so we can talk.”

She gave up, partially back to her senses, obeying with a resigned sigh. Her posture was incredibly stiff, leaning to the arm of the couch, not wanting the smallest of contacts to happen. It pained him, but it pained him even more to suspect the reason behind it.

“I’m sorry, Ashtoreth,” he admitted, gaze on hers. “This is all my fault.”

“Francis—”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up. It… it was a dumb mistake. And now you’re suffering because of it, because I put that back in your mind and—”

“You didn’t put anything back in my mind,” she interrupted him.

Francis’ expression filled with perplexity. Now she looked ashamed, stare on the ground instead of his.

“It never left,” she finished, voice full of defeat. Defeat she couldn’t stand and pulled her up on her feet once more, her back to him as she walked to the window. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Everyone moved on but me.”

“Dear,” he said, honest and shaky, “who else should be moving on from it but you? Who else was affected?”

“No one. Not that I know. It’s just…”

“Did you ever talk about it with anyone?”

“Oh, now you’re the one being ridiculous. Who would I tell? How? Such an insignificant—”

“It’s not insignificant!”

“Please,” she turned back to him and rolled her eyes, “you say it as if it was…”

He stood up and crossed his arms, tears starting to crystalize.

“Go ahead. Say it.”

She turned around again, crossing her arms as well.

“I won’t say such a thing. It’s a serious accusation.”

“But it’s what happened, Ashtoreth! And the sooner you admit it, the sooner you’ll—”

“What? Get over it, Francis?” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Get over it so I can be normal enough for you? So we can role-play as boss/employee to your heart’s content? So I can become the dirty nanny out of a vintage porno every man on Earth wishes I was?” She paused. “So you can take my stockings off and fuck me on the kitchen’s floor?”

“I’d never do that!”

“Because you’re opposed to pre-marital sex.”

“Because you wouldn’t be okay with it! You wouldn’t be okay with it and I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want. You know I wouldn’t.”

“Who says I didn’t want it then?”

“You did, darling, can’t you see? You’ve been telling me that since the day I found out about it. I asked you if you wanted it and you said you didn’t say no. He waited for a moment when the house was empty, he got you on the floor, he pulled your skirts up. He did everything without asking and you just laid there! You didn’t even warn him about not being on birth control because he didn’t care, he just wanted to abuse you and let you live with it.

”But you don’t have to live with it anymore! You don’t have to do this on your own. You have me, you don’t have to be alone on this, keeping it to yourself and hoping I don’t accidentally trigger you. We can talk, you can ask for my help, just like I asked for yours.”

“I don’t need help. It’s alright. It’s immature. I was young and I got scared and it overstayed its welcome in my thoughts, that’s it. If that hadn’t happen—”

“You still could have lived a fulfilling life. You could have met someone else to have your first experience with. We still could have met. You don’t have to thank him.”

Nanny Ashtoreth huffed. He took a few steps closer, close enough to put a hand on her shoulder, although he held back.

“I know what your mother used to tell you. That you should be grateful he even _wanted_ you. That he found you attractive enough to take advantage of you. But she was wrong. There are… several people who like you. And we like you because you’re tall, because your shoulders are broad and your features are sharp and your lips are thin. We don’t have to look past those things to like you; we’re not doing you any favour. It’s just how we feel, and feeling it doesn’t give us any right to use your body however we want and ignore how you feel about it.”

She was staring at him again, now face to face, her lips wavering.

Francis experimentally reached for her hand and, this time, she let him take it. His thumb rubbed comforting circles over her knuckles.

“And, personally, I don’t see you as a… what did you call it? Um, a ‘dirty nanny out of a vintage… that.’ I see you as you, a woman who is beautiful and smart and talented and ever so kind…”

“Careful there.”

“…to me.”

“That’s better.”

“I know how much effort you put into being Nanny Ashtoreth, but to me… you’re just Ashtoreth. Same way I’m ‘Francis’ to you. The only reason I call you Nanny is because it’s what you find more comfortable and I respect your boundaries.”

She snorted, brushing a rebellious curl out of her face.

“What happened, happened. It makes no sense to regret it this late.”

“It also makes no sense to call it something it’s not and put the blame on you.”

“I don’t put the blame on myself. I clearly recognize he was a brute. I’ve called him a brute many times, in case you weren’t paying attention.”

“If someone ever did that to me…” He used his thumb to dry a tear on her cheekbone. “What would you call them?”

Soon that tear was followed by many others, running down her face in black rivers of mascara.

“I…” She wetted her lips and took a deep breath. “I was raped…”

Francis wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a comforting hug, her tears soaking his jacket. He didn’t mind, he just wanted to help her.

“How? How is that possible?” she sobbed. “I…”

“You didn’t deserve it.” He broke the hug to look into her eyes. “No one does, that’s what makes it so painful. I’m not saying I expect you to leave all your pain behind, although God knows I wish you could. All I want is for you not having to keep it to yourself your whole life. I don’t want you to lock it all inside you and let it consume you and let me hurt you when we could just discuss it and see how we can move forward. That’s all I—”

“I should have done something,” she insisted. “If a man ever did that to me now, he—”

“You did what you could do at the moment and it still doesn’t make it okay.” He put both hands on her face, helping her keep it up. “Ashtoreth, you did nothing wrong. I don’t care about what you could have done better and you shouldn’t either. That’s the ‘ridiculous’ thing. That’s what wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Then what should I do?”

Francis took a while to answer, thinking it over.

“Now we get some rest,” he told her. “And tomorrow, you start healing.”

He stood on his tiptoes to press a peck against her forehead and smiled one last time before going to his room.

No matter how long it took, she would heal and he would be there for her.

* * *

Later that night, when Francis was getting under the covers after changing into his pyjamas, a knock on his door startled him.

It was Nanny Ashtoreth, in her nightgown and robe, hair down.

“What do you need, my dear?”

She opened and closed her mouth.

“Oh, it’s not something I need,” she corrected quickly. “It’s more for your benefit than anything else. It’s been quite the evening, hasn’t it? Lots of emotions, and I figured you might require some company to—”

“You don’t want to sleep on your own?”

She shook her head as a hint of deep sadness crossed her face, threatening to overflow her eyes for a third time. Francis held her like he did in the living room and invited her in, closing the door behind them.

Under the sheets, they remained as far apart as they could, although their fingers were intertwined. Francis was on his back and she was on her front, and they looked at each other as if they needed her to remember who she was laying with.

He gave her one last gentle smile that reassured her enough to fall asleep, and still watched her for as many minutes as his own tiredness allowed him.

“I love you,” he whispered before passing out himself.

But she was unconscious beyond the reach of his confession. Whether she heard him or not, he was glad he said it. And he was even gladder that she was willing to try to let him in.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He takes care of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a soft little chapter, to rest from the angst of the last one. I appreciate every comment. Remember you can find me on twitter (datcheesycake) and tumblr (anxietycheesecake) if you want me to write you something uwu

“Dear,” he called her in whispers next morning, when it came obvious he couldn’t let her sleep any longer. “Wake up, dear.”

Nanny Ashtoreth groaned. Francis stayed on his side of the bed, making sure not to touch her while keeping his presence automatically recognizable. However, as soon as he noticed she wouldn’t react anymore, he had to tap her arm to get her attention.

“Dearie, it’s Brother Francis. You’re home. I need you to wake up.”

It worked this time, her eyes fluttering open, reddened by the several hours of uninterrupted rest. Francis took his hand off her arm and put both up, where she could see them.

“How are you?” he asked in a gentle voice.

Nanny Ashtoreth sat up on the bed and stretched, rubbing one of her eyes. It always softened him, to see her have such human responses to everyday stuff. He was beyond grateful that she allowed him to see this side of her.

“Fairly good, to be honest,” she replied. “Did I sleep for too long?”

“A little bit, but it’s okay. You were exhausted. Would you like to go and catch some breakfast, or would you rather eat here?”

She seemed to think it over, even though it was clear she had nothing to think. She made her decision from the second he popped that question.

“Well, I do hate eating anywhere that isn’t a table or a picnic blanket…” she admitted and both her eyes and her voice lowered as she finished: “but I don’t believe I’m ready to…” A gulp. “Go to the kitchen now.”

Francis gulped as well, the weight of what happened to her falling back on him after some pleasing hours of sleep beside the woman he loved.

“I understand if you consider it silly,” she clarified. “In fact…”

“No, no, it’s alright. Of course we don’t have to go there if you’re not comfortable with it.” He leaned forward to kiss her temple. A light peck. “I’ll go cook us something. And I promise I won’t be mad if you leave crumbles.”

“I won’t.” She rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind anyway, then.”

With everything agreed on, he left the bedroom.

Half an hour later, he came back into the room with their food and, to her surprise, a plaid piece of cloth he didn’t hesitate to lay on the floor in front of the bed.

“What is that?” she pointed at the strange addition to their plan.

“A picnic blanket, of course,” Francis beamed.

“Are we having a picnic here?”

“That’s right,” he nodded and stopped fixing the plates to look at her. “You mentioned you weren’t okay with eating in bed, and even though I can’t really relate to that, I want you as comfortable as possible.”

“But this—”

“Uh-uh, not another word, my darling. I already went through all this trouble.”

She grinned mischievously.

“You’re really pushing your luck today, aren’t you?”

He blushed, taken aback.

“Consider yourself fortunate; I happen to be in a very good mood… or a very bad mood?”

Some sort of unidentified sadness painted her tone as she pronounced those last words. Francis fought against it with a tender smile and a hand extended towards her.

“I hope we can change that.”

She took it almost at the instant and let him guide her from the feet of the bed —where she was sitting now, legs together— to the ground, over the blanket.

Nanny Ashtoreth looked at all the delicious dishes Francis had managed to get there in their picnic basket, the steaming tea, even the sugar and syrup in the places she preferred, and he could tell she was unsure.

“You shouldn’t have done all of this.”

Francis’ gaze went up from the cup of tea he was serving to stare at her, that kindness still on her expression —as if it ever left—.

“Anything that makes your life a bit easier is something I should absolutely do. Or at least try to do.”

She chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. It was as endearing as it was sad.

“I don’t want you to see me any different,” she confessed.

Francis couldn’t hide his shock.

“But, dearie, I’ve always seen you the same way. Now I’m just starting to show it.”

“Because you’re nervous about what happened. Because you pity me.”

“No, it’s because…”

_Because I love you…_

“Because we take care of each other,” she predicted with a sigh.

“Yes.” He squeezed her hand and grinned. “We do.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a nanny in Francis' bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're soft, I'm soft, you're soft. Everybody wins! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please, please, please find me on Twitter as datcheesycake or Tumblr as anxietycheesecake. I'd really appreciate it.

From that day forward, there was not a single night when she didn’t sleep in his bed. At first she excused herself, telling him it wouldn’t last forever and eventually she’d accumulate enough forces and everything would go back to normal. But as more and more nights passed by, it became apparent she wasn’t going anywhere and they stopped commenting on it.

Despite his true desires —that didn’t have anything to do with sex—, Francis gave her as much space as he could, never invading her side of the mattress, let alone touching her. She didn’t seem to be suffering of nightmares or terrors, yet he wouldn’t risk it. If he startled her by making contact in her state of unconsciousness and lost her trust, he would never forgive himself.

It still was a challenge. Seeing her laying there, her back to him, he’d love nothing more than holding her like during their stay at London. But things have changed and even though it was scary to think they might never be together physically again, Francis found the idea of just looking after her as lovely as they came.

What really sealed the deal, though, was when she started bringing stuff from her room to his. Brushes, make-up, clothes. Ever so gradually, more and more of her private life stepped into his. Of course, if she slept there every night, it made no sense for her to have to go to another bedroom in order to get dressed in the morning. However, the reaction it provoked in Francis was one of absolute euphoria.

 _Yes_ , he wanted to tell her. _Move every single thing you own here. All I have belongs to you._

She didn’t need to be told. She sometimes asked out of courtesy, but he reassured her everything she had to do was okay by him so many times, there was no point in asking anymore.

And then a certain day, they went to a bazaar and a small figurine in the shape of a bird, with silver body and emerald eyes, caught her attention. She called Francis to come see it.

“Look, wouldn’t it look just great in our room? Right on top of the chest of drawers?”

 _Our_ room. _Their_ room. Something that both of them could call their own. Something they shared. Francis almost broke down in tears and Nanny Ashtoreth could only say:

“That’s a lot of emotions for interior design.”

She would never understand it was so much more than that, but that was okay. He knew it well enough.

* * *

A particular February night, when he was getting under the covers, she interrupted her regular session of reading to ask a question that shocked him:

“Dear, do you know what day is tomorrow?”

Francis thought it over. After the birthday fail, he didn’t want to forget another important date. Once he recalled it, he hesitated before saying it out loud. What if they weren’t thinking about the same thing and he proved he cared more than he should and scared her off?

Oh, well, he had to risk it.

“Our anni—” _Careful…_ “One year from the day you arrived?”

She nodded.

“Exactly.”

The second time she did it, he joined her, pleasantly surprised she remembered. The conversation didn’t make any sign to continue and he was getting nervous. Perhaps it was a mere observation and she didn’t expect him to say anything. It would feel almost like a waste, but…

“I’ll do something nice for you.”

He choked on air.

“W-will you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I thought…” He cleared his throat. “I thought you didn’t like the word ‘nice.’”

“Not referring to me, at least.”

“But it’ll be you—”

“I’ll give you something tomorrow, end of the discussion.”

“You really don’t have to do anything.”

“Nonsense. I’m a lady and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman lately. It’s only fair.”

“Lately?”

She rolled her eyes.

“In this year and the last.”

He blushed and chuckled tensely.

“Oh, dearie, that’s so—”

“Don’t say it.”

“But you said—”

“Now let’s get some rest.” She abandoned the book on the bedside table and turned off the lamp. Then she put a hand against Francis’ chest and gave him a chaste kiss goodnight. “Sleep well, darling.”

“Y-you too,” he replied, frozen in his sitting position for an instant.

When he came back to his senses, he turned his own lamp off and laid down. Happy dreams of the day that awaited him made his rest all the more enjoyable.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First non-anniversary, part one. Nanny gives Francis a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet another cute chapter. Don't worry, we'll be back to smut very soon. Thank you all for reading and I can't stress it enough: find me on Twitter and Tumblr. It'd mean a lot to me.
> 
> https://twitter.com/datcheesycake  
> https://anxietycheesecake.tumblr.com

When Francis woke up the next morning, Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t there. He figured, at first, that she might be taking a shower, but he didn’t hear any water. She always got ready in their room, so it also didn’t make sense for her to be somewhere else. Perhaps she was working on his surprise…

That thought quietened his worries and prompted him out of bed and into the bathroom, delightfully excited about the day to come. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t only recall the date, but she also was willing to celebrate it. Again, Francis would be more than happy with remaining her… friend? However, the prospect of her caring about him as much as he cared about her made his heart beat so fast he sometimes felt like it could fly out his chest.

Now showered and dressed, he decided to check out the living room, see if she was there. Nothing. But looking out the window, he could see the Bentley parked on its usual spot when it was outside the garage. So she was at home. Or maybe at the woods? Maybe his surprise was in the woods? What a mystery their morning had turned out to be…

Oh, well, he’d have to wait in the kitchen. He was hungry, anyway.

As he came closer to said room, he noticed something. A certain smell floating in the air. A delicious mixture of aromas he hadn’t sensed in a long time. Did that mean…?

He rushed to the kitchen, running through the arc of the door and finding himself in front of a table full of exquisite food. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, cake, muffins, steaming cups of coffee and tea, fresh fruit salads… everything was there, like it used to be. And Nanny Ashtoreth was also there, standing by the stove, like she used to be.

Francis was breathless. She turned her head to him and pronounced those magic words:

“Oh, you’re awake. Good morning.”

Good morning? How? How could it possibly be anything but good, with her in their beloved kitchen, doing what she always did, grinning like she used to grin? Francis wanted to fall on his knees and cry. Crawl to her and hug her legs and thank her for returning, even though she never left. It was silly, irrational, everything she thought her trauma was, but he couldn’t help but feel it and all he could do instead was smile.

“Um, good morning, dearie.”

A distinction was important to make: he couldn’t care less whether she cooked for him or not. All these weeks, he had been doing the best that he could and there were certain meals she always asked him to cook himself. The real origin of his joy was to see her healing, overcoming her fears and reclaiming a part of her life she had lost.

Still nervous that his interruption could kill the peace, he stepped further into the kitchen with reluctance and extreme caution. The closer he got to the table, the clearer it became how what was laying on it was a proper feast.

“What’s so funny?” she questioned, confusing his innocent gladness with mockery.

He forced himself to stop smiling.

“Oh, nothing, I just… you’re in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m very proud of you.”

Her seriousness wavered at the praise.

“Don’t be foolish, Francis. It is not such a big deal,” she dismissed after a second of hesitation, serving a new round of pancakes. “I had to grow out of it sooner or later. I just can’t spend my whole life avoiding kitchens.”

“Well, but it’s still a huge step and—”

“Besides, this is not _his_ kitchen. This is our kitchen, and I’ve been here every day for months. No point of hiding from rooms in my own house.”

 _Our_ kitchen. _Her own_ house. Francis’ heart began pounding even faster, if that was possible. He now wanted to hold her and kiss her and truly let her know how proud he was. He would still respect her boundaries, though. The fact she could overcome one small portion of her triggers didn’t mean they were all gone.

“And is this my surprise?” he guessed, joyful. “That you can be here again?”

She frowned at him.

“Francis, please, what kind of surprise would that be? What an awful idea.” She walked to the table and put the plate there, on the only spot that wasn’t taken. “This is your surprise. Now we better sit down before it gets cold.”

The meals she made never got cold, but he sure was eager to eat, so he obeyed. Sitting by their table, together, her chair as near to his as they could manage, the perfume of her perfect pancakes and muffins caressing his nose… everything was beyond wonderful. All Francis had ever wished for, never daring to hope.

He held her hand as they ate and she pretended her cheeks didn’t burn as badly as his. Then he had to ruin it by asking another silly question:

“Does that mean you’re going back to your room?”

Nanny Ashtoreth’s nose wrinkled. Oh, no, he thought. Another moment killed by his unruly mouth.

That was when she replied:

“Why in Hell would I do that? Honestly, Francis… We just bought that stupid bird!”

He giggled and squeezed her hand.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

She clicked her tongue and shook her head and focused back on her plate. But when Francis was ready to continue eating, she stared at him over the edge of her glasses and grinned; teeth not showing, message absolutely clear.

Things weren’t ‘back to normal.’ They were getting better.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The non-aniversary part two. Francis gives Nanny her gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I manage to make body worship even softer? Anyway, this is my last week at my current home and I still don't know where we are going to live. Probably couch surfing. I'll obviously keep writing on my phone but since I'm not used to it, don't expect updates as often. You still might get some chapters this week, depending on when we call off the internet, but don't be scared if you don't see me around as much after next Monday. You still can find me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/datcheesycake), where I post updates about my life more often than not. You can also ask me to... eh, write you stuff. I hope you like this chapter and the current sanitary situation is treating you a bit better than it's been treating me lol

The day passed rather quickly and in a blink of an eye they were getting ready for bed. It had been a lovely day, actually, full of fun and cosiness. They spent the first half of it walking in the snow of the main street in town, looking at the shop windows and waving at anyone who said hello —given Nanny Ashtoreth’s popularity, there were many people to wave at—. They had lunch at a nice coffee shop —the most delicious sandwiches he had ever tasted— and returned home to listen to old records and solve crossword puzzles on the couch. For dinner, he cooked the soup he knew she loved and she thanked him for it.

Now, satisfied by all those previous activities, they were preparing to call it off and get some rest. Francis came into the bedroom, already showered and in his favourite cotton pyjamas, and Nanny Ashtoreth was sitting in front of the vanity they had gotten from her original room no longer than two weeks ago. He smiled fondly as he watched her brush her hair and her unaffected eyes found his through the mirror.

“You find it amusing that my hair doesn’t curl properly without rollers?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow.

During the first months of their cohabitation, Francis would have panicked and apologized. At this point, though, he understood that was how she joked and, even if it wasn’t the case, he was allowed to laugh it off.

“I think your hair looks wonderful regardless of how you take care of it.” He dodged the bullet with the same soft grin. “But you can always go back to them if you don’t like it.”

“Oh, don’t play mind games with me. You don’t want to sleep next to that.”

Cautiously, he walked behind her.

“I don’t care about that.” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered himself to be on the same level as her face. “I want to sleep next to _you_.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes and acted all disgusted by his unapologetic cheesiness, to what he only replied with a giggle and a rushed kiss to her cheek, before going to sit at the feet of the bed.

“I still can’t believe that is just… who you are,” she commented, setting the hairbrush aside to spray some perfume behind her ears. “At first I thought you were trying to bribe me into… I don’t know, giving you a golden shower or something in the line of that.”

_A golden… what?_

“We can’t afford that much champagne, can we?” he guessed, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. She rolled her eyes again, abandoning her chair and turning the little lights of the vanity off, now the lamp being their only source of clarity. “Well, at least now you know my attentions are honest.”

“Yes,” she agreed, providing her hair of one last tease.

“Today was lovely,” he said. “I had a great time from start to finish, but… seeing you overcome things that seemed so far away a month ago… that has to be the best part, isn’t—”

Suddenly, he was interrupted by her lips on his and the weight of her body tackling him against the mattress. Sooner than he could have ever predicted, his hands were on her waist and he was kissing her back.

“I hope I haven’t overstepped,” she gasped, coming up to the surface for air.

“N-no, no.” He shook his head, eyes wide open. “I think you’d be stepping just right.”

“Good.”

And with his blessing, she kept kissing him, pushing her tongue into his mouth like she did before everything went wrong. It was better than he remembered. Having her pressed against him, the warmth of her breath, the silky fabric of her nightgown under his fingers as he held her closer. Almost too much.

“Wait…” he sighed. It didn’t work. He had to physically push them apart, resting his hands on her face and putting distance between them with a huffy laugh. “Wait, darling, wait.”

“What?” she asked with concerned inexpression.

“Let me sit up. Look…” He scooped to the bedhead, sitting up against it and patting his thighs. “Come here.”

She crawled to him and straddled his legs, just as prompted. The angle gave them a new kind of proximity he personally craved. Her laid down on top of him was overwhelming, but this, her on his lap like she belonged there… how could something so small bring him so much joy?

His hand went under her jawline and he was now spreading gentle peck all over it, the softness of her earlobes and curls compliant under his fingers. She threw her head slightly back, giving in into the sensation.

“How far would you like to go?” he whispered, pulling out of the contact to look at her.

“As far as you want,” she shrugged.

He took a curl between his index and thumb and observed in sheer fascination as it contracted back on itself when he let it go. Then he lowered his gaze, trying to avoid hers.

“I’d still like to kiss you all over, if you don’t mind.” And he added, looking at her face: “I mean, we don’t have to do it if you’re not… We could just… kiss for a while? Or go to sleep, too! That’s also an option. I really wouldn’t—”

She stopped him by starting yet another passionate kiss. This one, however, didn’t last more than a few seconds after which she muttered against his mouth:

“Go ahead.”

Francis sighed in pure bliss at her approval. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles and kissed the spot where the beginning of her left ear met the rest of her face. She made a little noise, hands travelling up and down his arms as she shifted every slight way that could give him better access.

Not able to hold back anymore, he wrapped his arms around her and got her as close as he could, chin resting on the spaghetti strap of her nightdress, which was starting to slide off her shoulder.

“How I missed this…”

“Me too.”

Her voice sounded so small, he worried for a moment that she might be uncomfortable. But no, she just was turned on. As turned on as him, who could feel his cock hardening under her. Not that he would act on it. Tonight, like many other nights, it was about how good he could make her feel.

“Can I take this off?” he mumbled on her neck, fingers sneaking under the straps, prepared to pull in a matter of seconds.

“Uh-huh…” she nodded.

Oh, how he loved to see her speechless, communicating with those non-words she hated so much. Ever so slowly, he slid the nightgown off her, down her chest and waist, exposing her skin all the way to where their bodies were touching. She then put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I believe you’re overdressed.”

Francis examined himself, his light blue shirt and trousers. She was right.

“I believe I’m dressed enough to focus on you, my dear.”

Nanny Ashtoreth frowned, perhaps reconsidering. She looked away in that fashion, as if there was something she was trying to dance around, something potentially humiliating.

“I believe it would help if you…” she trailed off under her breath.

“Oh.” Francis understood. “In that case…”

He rushed to take his shirt off and smiled at her.

“Better?”

“Much better,” she grinned.

With that out of the way, she once again attacked his lips. The feeling of chest-to-chest contact without clothes between them… Francis feared he might come just from that, after such a long period of… whatever ‘abstinence’ meant to someone like him.

He didn’t forget his true goal, though. As lightly as he could, he flipped her over to his side in a way that made him the one of top. She muttered a ‘oh, my…’ kind of teasing comment, but he paid it no mind. He wasn’t properly on top of her, anyway. He wouldn’t want to be, with the current events. What if she felt suffocated? What if it ruined their progress?

So he concentrated on sliding the nightdress down her legs and pick everything up from where he left it: leaving licks and gentle bites on her neck. He was leaving a not-too-dark hickey on her right collarbone to the beat of her pleased sighs and squirms —wasn’t it beautiful to make her squirm? Wasn’t it an honour?— when her hand covered his. He paused to see where she was going with that, if it was a signal they should stop, and he smiled with his inner face once she took his hand to her breast and pressed.

Yes, she wanted him to touch her chest, of course. But it was also like she wanted him to feel the drum of her heart, in some way. Yet another statement of ‘I still have pulse, I’m still alive, we still can do this.’ Francis’ thumb began to brush a series of circular shapes around and on her nipple, choosing the literal meaning over the metaphorical one, since pointing it out would be an unworthy risk. She could say anything with the security that he spoke her language, regardless of how many translations he decided to keep to himself in order to not mute her.

His mouth fell to the neglected nipple. Funny, how he used to be so scared of hurting her with his teeth, and now he was thinking about nothing but her, not as a helpless thing he had to protect from himself, but as a human being he could hurt —just like she could hurt him— and still preferred to pleasure.

“Wait,” she said, hand on his hair. He looked at her. “Get in between my legs, darling. It’ll be easier.”

“Sure?”

She gulped and nodded.

“You wouldn’t do anything wrong.”

That recognition. Francis didn’t have trouble seeing himself as a separate being of the ‘men’ who gave others a bad name. He never jumped in defence of his gender when someone generalized about it. However, that came from a place of ‘I’m making a constant effort not to deserve that criticism.’ And that effort often included repressing himself even when he was alone. He never dared to think about women he found attractive, his hopes of a satisfying marriage never went further than a wedding night that was more about love than it was about passion. It felt… almost dishonest.

What Nanny Ashtoreth was telling him now was that it wasn’t in him to do the wrong thing, to disrespect her or cause her harm. She acknowledged how desirable she was to him, how much he wanted her, and still trusted him to act on that desire in ways that wouldn’t exceed her boundaries. The attraction wasn’t a potential danger and him feeling it didn’t call for a punishment by itself.

So he got between her legs as she asked, with the deep confidence of not being _him_ and her seeing the difference between them. But also the responsibility, the weightless weight of avoiding her any thought of that man and Francis having the most insignificant of similarities, and the wish of not covering just the bare minimum. He wished to go so much further than that.

“I want to show you such a good time…” he whispered. The words came out on their own and he couldn’t do anything to stop them.

Nanny Ashtoreth stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I hope you’re not under the impression that you’d be the first to show me a good time.”

She was proving him, he knew that. So he pushed any insecurity aside and said from the bottom of his heart:

“Of course not. And I’m so glad you’ve been able to find that in several people.” He kissed her abdomen. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t offer you the same.”

He kept moving downwards, lips descending against her warm skin, absorbing the soft coat of sweat she would never admit was appearing. Soon they were just above the edge of her knickers and his fingers were hooking under the waistline.

“Can I?” he asked in his littlest voice, looking up to her. “Or would you rather put your stockings on first?”

She licked her lips but said nothing.

“You could put your nightdress back on,” he insisted. “It wouldn’t bother me for what I’m trying to do.”

She shook her head at that and her hands went to his, pushing them down and making them take her underwear with them. Francis removed the piece of lacy fabric and sat back on his heels to see the reward to his work.

He was speechless for a moment. His palms landed on her thighs and petted them from hip to knee and back again, and he didn’t know how to explain, how to truly get the point across.

He took a deep breath and obligated himself to try.

“I think… I think I’ve never seen anything half as beautiful as you.”

“Oh, please…” she chuckled.

“I mean it. Just… how did he make you? If I could ask him just one thing it’d be… how in Heaven did he make you so perfect?” He sighed. “Your hair, your eyes, your freckles…”

“Francis, you’re being terribly hyperbolic.”

“Your shoulders, your breasts, your curves… Everything in you… How can you not believe in God when you have your reflection on the mirror every morning? How can anyone who knows you not believe a higher power put you on Earth with a purpose?”

“And that purpose would be you?” she joked cynically.

“No,” he replied with eyes full of honesty. “But I’ll thank him every day of my life anyway.”

He continued to name parts of her he loved and with every mention, he planted a kiss there. Despite her attempts to make fun of him for it, by the time he reached her centre, she was shamelessly shaking. He parted her lips softly with just the tip of his tongue and spent an eternity there, exploring the warm cavern of her body, discovering every button he could push to make her gasp or moan or even scream.

She didn’t squirt that time, no matter how hard she made him finger her. Perhaps because he mostly ignored her orders and remained gentle in his intrusion, like a boy during his first time that somehow acquired the skills of an unquestionable adult man. The kind of skills he never thought he’d develop and, more impressive than anything else, the ability to go easy without real fear of doing something wrong.

But there was also sincerity in her not squirting. As she told him once, at least in her case, it was more of a performance than something that truly added to her experience. It was a reward for the man that made her orgasm, not for herself. Her satisfaction was a collateral effect.

So her coming as she regularly did in her lonely hours —silent yet vibrant, pleased beyond exclamation points, alive and pulsing—, was a sign that she trusted Francis in a way she probably never trusted anyone. It was also a form of love, even if it wasn’t as romantic as the one he felt towards her.

That night, one year after they first met, grabbing and wetting the sheets that now belonged to both of them, Nanny Ashtoreth was in love with Brother Francis. And he understood that if that was the only way she could love him —when he wrapped his hands around her and kissed her forehead and asked her if she needed a glass of water— that would be okay. Because it was also the moment when he loved her the most.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis and Nanny try to act like horny teenagers but don't succeed. Right before that, enjoy some whipped cream action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally figured out Google Docs and I'm happy, because that means I can definitely write on my phone once I don't have my computer on me anymore, although yes, it might take longer. Enjoy this chapter, although it's bittersweet. Thank y'all so much for your support both on here and on Twitter (datcheesycake; please find me). Y'all help me deal with these hard times and your comments mean a lot (we already passed 400!) Also, if you want someone to write you something and you enjoy my style, please don't hesitate to ask me. It's a way of helping me, too. Enjoy!

Spring was just around the corner with only a few days of winter left and Francis walked into the kitchen like he did every morning. The last three weeks had been a pleasant time, filled with walks in the little sunlight the morning still borrowed from the clouds and enjoyable afternoons in the snow, just to grab a cup of tea in the nearest coffee shop. At night, when it was too cold, they turned the fireplace on and roasted marshmallows. Then they pleasured each other under the blankets and cuddled to sleep.

Nanny Ashtoreth accepted cuddles now, not just as a comfort mechanism after an intense sexual act. She sat on his lap or let him sit on hers, or she laid on top of him or leaned against his side, and allowed him to run his fingers through her hair and kiss the top of her head with never seen before levels of tolerance. Of course no one would catch him complaining.

So he felt rather optimistic about the day awaiting him as he sat down for yet another delicious breakfast. Nanny Ashtoreth filled him a cup of tea and laid a tower of pancakes in front of his chair, before taking a seat on hers. He thanked her as always and started eating, although he soon noticed something was off.

Not bad, necessary. It was simply… different. She was acting strange, as if she was impatient for him to finish, eager to go do something else. But when Francis tried to rush, she called him out on it.

“You’re going to have an awful digestion if you keep that up.”

He slowed down, still under the impression that she wanted him to hurry, even though it was clear that wasn’t the case. A wave of relief washed over him when the plate was empty and she took it away to clean it. He sighed contentedly as he patted his round belly and grabbed the newspaper, which he didn’t get the chance to read earlier.

“Wouldn’t you like something else?” Nanny Ashtoreth offered from the kitchen sink.

Francis shook his head, eyes never leaving the words on the page.

“Oh, dear, thank you, but I don’t think I can eat one more thing.”

Suddenly, he heard the table crack and a light weight landed on his shoulder. He looked up and saw her sitting on the spot his plate was seconds ago and that weight soon proved to be her right foot. He gulped, doing his best to formulate sentences to the sight of her smirk, but as soon as he turned his head to see her leg and noticed the pair of black knickers hanging from her thin calve, he found himself speechless once more.

“Are you sure about that?” she teased.

All he could do was shake his head.

“Alright, then.”

She started to take off her coat and Francis tensed up. He couldn’t see anything with her skirts in the way, but he knew she was wearing nothing under them. The fact she still managed to take him by surprise and make him lose his breath after a year was almost as shocking as her sole existence.

He stood up from his seat like an automat, but first, he slid the knickers all the way down her leg and tossed them aside. As he did, it didn’t go unnoticed how soaked they were. She had been planning this over the course of the whole meal, at least, and just the concept of doing it was enough to get her this wet.

Now on eye-to-eye level, he helped her out of her coat and kissed her, hands already travelling to the bow on her neck to untie it. She didn’t even bother to tie it properly when she got dressed. The idea of what they were about to do solidifying as a premeditated crime in his head. She chucked against his mouth while he moved to the buttons of her blouse.

“Desperate, aren’t we?”

Francis fought the urge to apologize and brought her closer by the lower back, getting a small ‘ngh’ in response.

“I don’t know, are we?”

He was about to start kissing her again, but she pushed him back by the scarf with a serious expression.

“You can’t handle the consequences of playing sassy with me.”

Sometime in the future, Francis might be able to come back at her with another playful remark. Today, he could only wet his lips and nod.

“Good boy,” she smiled approvingly, pulling him back in and laying his fingers back on the buttons of the blouse.

He finally managed to take it off and he couldn’t continue kissing her ―or doing anything else, to be fair― when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. His eyes widened at the sight.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well?” he repeated.

She reached behind her and handed him a bottle of whipped cream he assumed was only for the pancakes.

“Well?”

Oh…

He cleared his throat.

“Well… can… Um, can I?” He gestured at her bare chest.

“Of course. Do the honours.”

“Okay…”

He nodded a couple times before shaking the can —a bit more gently than he should— and spraying an experimental line of cream over part of her neck and collarbone, forcing her to shiver as it went down to her breast —what an unpredictable substance whipped cream had turned out to be—.

He examined his final work.

“Are you going to eat that?” she questioned.

Once again, Francis stopped himself from apologizing and jumped right to it, licking a long stripe on her neck, feeling the sweet taste of the cream and the salty one of her sweat dancing on his tongue. He swallowed with a completely new kind of happiness, something he couldn’t compare to anything else, and went on.

When there was nowhere less to lick, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. She panted and squeezed him between her legs and tugged at his hair while he cleaned it, careful not to leave one particle of cream on it.

He took the can again to repeat and in a blink of an eye she had stolen it and was spraying it in a much less respectful manner, getting whipped cream all over both of her breasts. How could he refuse?

“There you go, darling…” she praised as he buried his face on her chest, back arching in appreciation, hand still on his hair. “It wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

He looked up to her with a nipple in his mouth and shook his head, cheerful. It was time to get some more…

“Wait.” She stopped him. “Better take Nanny’s skirts off if you don’t want to ruin them.”

“You’re right,” he smiled.

Taking her skirts off was always kind of challenging, especially in her current position, but she worked with him rather than obstaculazing him, so they were gone rather quickly. Her nakedness assaulted his eyes in the same breath-taking way it always did, never falling in routine, no matter how many times it happened. She was wearing stockings, though, and he wasn’t sure he should get rid of those given the room where they were. He also liked them far too much.

“Don’t put that in my vulva, please,” she warned, pointing at the can. “It sounds lovely on paper but it’s actually dangerous.”

“I had no idea,” he admitted.

“To be fair, I’m surprised you knew food could be used in this context.”

“Well,” he laughed nervously, “haven’t you teached me that almost anything can be used in this context?”

“If you should lead your life through one of my teachings, I’m glad that’s the one you picked.” She observed he was setting the can aside. “Just don’t put it on my genitals, darling, anywhere else is fine.”

“Oh.” He lowered himself till he was practically on his knees and lifted one of her legs. “Is this a good place?”

“There’s only one way to find out…”

Mindful of not getting anything between her legs, he squeezed a line of whipped cream down the inner side of her thigh and licked it clean in a slow slide of his flat tongue. He kept kissing and nibbling at her skin long after all the cream was gone and she showed her agreement on it with encouraging noises and squirms. He attempted to move on to her redded sex but she pulled him up back to her face and stuck her tongue in his mouth.

“Take… take that off…” she prompted between kisses, tugging at his shirt. “Don’t wanna ruin that either.”

“I love it when you speak in… eh…”

“Contractions?”

“That.”

“Do not get used to it. And take that damn thing off, for Satan’s sake.”

“As the lady wishes,” he giggled, obeying.

“Naturally,” she added, too under her breath to be sarcastic.

With the shirt gone, they could properly press against each other, the ghostly stickiness of the whipped cream wetting his chest as much as it did with her. He shook the can again, victim of an euphoria he never thought possible, a feeling that made him spray a good share of its content inside her open mouth and kiss it away, the exquisite substance melting with the heat of their lips and tongues.

“Who would have guessed…” she tried to comment and he silenced her with another kiss.

He couldn’t do anything else. He was turned on beyond reason and, by the way she followed with near to zero reluctance, it was safe to say she was too. The can was soon abandoned somewhere on the kitchen floor, his arms enclosing her waist and bringing her closer to the edge of the table. His erection was obvious even with rather thick trousers on and it was pressed right against her bare sex. It was almost like…

“Take these off, too,” she muttered as if she was begging, hands going to the zipper. “Just… mgnh, pull it out, just…”

“So it can breathe,” he completed, voice filled with mercy both for her and himself.

“Yes, dear, so it can breathe…”

“We’re just… messing around…” he defended, pulling the zipper down just enough to free his cock from its cotton prison, struggling to do it without ceasing to kiss her. “R-right?”

“Right. Just messing around, just… it’s okay…” Her tone wavered as he bit down her neck.

He returned to her mouth not too late, though, perhaps because it was easier to distract himself from the loopholes he was searching for in the word of the Lord when she could respond. Because that was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Searching for loopholes. Like teenagers at his town did, keeping their clothes on and finding dark places to sin in, hoping technicalities would save them.

His hand wrapped around his cock after it was out. They were no longer close enough for it to brush against her, but there was still a sense of moistiness, the unavoidable presence of a woman’s desire floating around, impossibly on the verge of taking the barriers down. There were no barriers anymore. Not real ones, at least. Just the thin and changeable air, as changeable as his own convictions, apparently.

“We could… we could…” he began and soon found out he couldn’t finish. If the sentence became complete, he would become culpable.

“Messing around, right?” she sighed against his face. “It’s not…”

“J-just… just to see how…”

“Just a bit of teasing, like we always do…”

“Y-yes, yes… A bit of… a bit of superficial contact…”

And she finally said the magic words, the culmination of his journey to harmless sin:

“Just the tip.”

And he was stupid enough to believe in it. To believe in his own innocence enough to really do it. The heat grew stronger and stronger, he felt the softness of her most delicate skin on the head of his cock, he closed his eyes and prepared, and…

“No!” he screamed when his cock met her entrance, just the tiniest stretch of muscles ready to receive him. His breathing was out of control and his hands were shaking as they broke apart. “I… I can’t… It’s…”

“Francis…” She tried to caress his cheek.

“It’s a sin!” he exploded, as said shaking hands put his cock back in his trousers and pulled the zipper up. “It’s a sin, it’s a sin, it’s…”

He ran to the living room, repeating that phrase like a broken record. He couldn’t stop saying it as he collapsed on the floor next to the couch, his back to it, and hid his face in his hands and started rocking back and front.

After a couple minutes of panic, he felt something pressing against his side. Nanny Ashtoreth wrapped her arm around him and pulled him into a hug, letting his head on her shoulder while he refused to uncover his face.

“You’re alright, dear,” she told him in which he assumed was her nanny voice. “I’m wearing clothes, you can look.”

She wasn’t lying, he could feel the tweed brushing against his skin. But he couldn’t look at her.

“I’m sorry…” he sobbed. “I can’t, I… I just… I can’t, Ashtoreth, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart.” And she broke apart to make eye contact, not caring if he opposed or not. The sight of her expression did succeed to calm him down. “I should be the one apologizing. It was wrong of me to ask for things you—”

“You did nothing wrong!” he cried. “I’m the one who can’t handle these things, I’m the one who—”

“If you can’t handle them, there is no reason for us to do them.”

“But you want it. And I… I want it, too.”

“Darling, I’ve told you this several times: just because you like the idea, doesn’t mean you actually want to do it. And what I want…” She brushed a tear off his cheekbone, “is to take care of you and spend time with you and sit on your face every now and then. None of those things requires you to penetrate me against your own will.”

“But—”

“No buts, Francis. I won’t consent to you forcing yourself to engage in activities you don’t agree with. I don’t care if it’s because of your religion or anything else. I do wish you could liberate yourself from those influences like I did decades ago, but I won’t push you any further than wherever you’re willing to go.”

He sighed and nodded. Her hand on his was as reassuring as always.

“Now let’s fix you a nice bubble bath, why don’t we? So we can put this incident behind us.” She helped him stand up and guided him towards the hallway. “Although, I must confess, I rather enjoyed everything that came right before it.”

He smiled despite himself. A soft smile.

“Me too, dearie.”


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Nanny messing with Carl, like she always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is vaguely inspired by 50 Shades of Grey and I hope you can look past that and the fact I don't know shit about hardward stores and all things related. What I do know is Twitter, so please find me there as datcheesycake. It's rather important. We still got no house in our future :D

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather call the cable company?” Francis asked for the third time as he followed her around the hardware store. The last storm of the season had knocked down their antenna and Nanny Ashtoreth insisted she could handle the situation just fine on her own.

“Oh, dear, I’ve already explained. Those leeches will charge you for the smallest of fixes and I can do it myself. Why would we call them?”

“But―”

“Now be a good boy and get Nanny some wire. The extra tough one, since the others seem to slip off rather easily.” They heard someone cough and drop some stuff on the other side of the shelf. “Good morning, Carl.”

As if he was summoned, Carl rushed to walk around the shelf and wave at them like he wasn’t listening to… the least understandable part of their conversation.

“Hey, what brings you guys here? So nice to see you!”

“Oh, we were just―” Francis tried to reply.

“Shopping,” Nanny finished. “Getting some things we need rather urgently, don’t we, my darling?”

“Um… yes, I believe that’s true,” he agreed with a nervous smile, cheeks burning at the petname usually reserved for moments of privacy.

“And we’re hoping to have a lot of fun with it, so, if you’d be so kind…”

Carl took a second to catch that she wanted him out of her way and stepped aside, grin frozen on his stiff face. They were in front of the cash register when he ran behind them, put his hands on the countertop and told the cashier with his wavering too-much-exercise voice:

“I’ll take one of those, too!” He pointed at the tough wire the old man was cutting for them. “Can I inspect it first? I need to make sure it… can handle it.”

“Oh, it absolutely can,” Nanny Ashtoreth confirmed as he stretched a portion of it and pretended to examine it. “But I wouldn’t recommend that to a beginner in… house repairs.”

Carl choked out a sarcastic chuckle that, Francis was sure, he thought made him sound like James Bond.

“Trust me, I’m no beginner. Ask my girlfriend, if you will.”

“What was her name, again?” Francis asked in genuine good faith.

“Laura.”

“Laurie, actually,” Nanny Ashtoreth corrected, picking the right amount of money from her purse and handing it to the cashier. Both men looked at her. “Unless I was watching the wrong weather report.”

Carl went speechless for a second and then cleared his throat:

“Eh, no, you’re right, you’re right. Maybe I got it wrong because she’s got a Scottish accent.”

“That’s more than understandable, Caroline.” The man behind the countertop accepted the cash and gave her the bags. “I almost forgot,” she added, “we will need some duct tape, too.”

“Yes, that too!” Carl exclaimed, way too enthusiastic.

As they waited, maybe prompted by how Francis offered to carry their bags and she called him a ‘good boy’ again, Carl seemed to have an itch on his neck and pushed his scarf down to scratch it, revealing a dark mark that his Laurie ―or Laura― appeared to have left there. He gazed at them from the corner of his eye, trying to see if they were watching, if she had noticed.

“Here it is,” the cashier came back with two duct tapes and Nanny gave him the missing cash without even thinking about it, doing the maths automatically.

“Thank you,” she nodded at him, taking the tape and putting it inside one of the bags. Then, she stared at Carl, painfully unimpressed before she faked surprise and went ―in her loudest voice―: “My, if that isn’t the worst mosquito bite I have ever seen! Would you look at that, Francis?” He looked over her shoulder and the cashier couldn’t help but look, too. Everyone else had turned back to them. “You must be terribly allergic, Charles, my dear, aren’t you?”

Carl blushed furiously and pulled his collar and scarf back up, ashamed.

“Not really…” he mumbled under his breath, although explaining what he truly was trying to show her would only make more of a fool out of him.

“Well, don’t worry, Brother Francis and I happen to own a vast variety of creams that can disappear any bruise or bite in a matter of days, if you would need such a thing. I’m sure we have the perfect one somewhere, right, sweetheart?”

Francis didn’t reply, but his enjoyment was clear, at least for himself.

“Drop by if you’d like to borrow some,” she grinned, taking his hand to walk him out of the shop. “Make sure to knock loud, we might be busy!”

Finally, they were in the parking lot, walking to the Bentley. Once inside of the car, she sighed.

“Trust me, darling, I do realize I shouldn’t keep embarrassing you in public. But it’s just too fun to see his shocked face.”

“You don’t embarrass me,” he replied with a giggle. “If anything, I feel honored he knows… I mean, he thinks we’re… what exactly does he think we’re doing?”

“BDSM, of course.”

“Oh…” He thought about it for a moment. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? You’ve always said…”

“I suppose we technically are. Domination and submission dynamics are a part of the spectrum, so to speak. But what he believes we’re doing, limited as he is, is more in the lines of… classic BDSM stereotypes, you know? Bondage, sadomasochism, punishment…”

“Punishment…” he repeated. “You have mentioned that a couple times.”

“I have.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I tell you not to do something, you do it anyway and I have to discipline you in some way. You probably wouldn’t like it.”

Francis nodded in silence. And then he spoke.

“What if I could come to like it?”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, brow raising.

“What are you implying?”

“I just think… Well, I don’t know what to think. I have no idea what it’s all about! But I… I’ve already done so many things I never thought I would. We’ve tried so much and I’m not the same person I was when we first met, am I?”

“No one is really the same person at two different points of their life.”

“And what if this new me likes it? What if―”

“Are you curious about it?”

“Yes, what if―”

“I’m asking you a question, Francis,” she clarified, serious. “Are you curious about it?”

He gulped.

“I think so.”

“Alright,” she said after a while. “Let’s give it a shot, then.”


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis earns some spanking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I got some good news! The cooperative my dad works at is going to give us a house. It's been empty for quite a while and they couldn't tell us for sure what state is it in, but it's a fact we now have a home. I want to thank you all for your support and remind you that you can still find me on Twitter as datcheesycake and ask me to write you something, if you want. I don't know when I'll be able to update, since the Internet always takes a while to get installed and we might not be able to install it at all, if the house is too shitty. But anyway, know I'll be okay. Love you!

“What is a punishment, exactly?”

“Whatever you want it to be.”

“That doesn’t sound like punishment at all.”

“Alright, let me see what I think you might be able to take...” She closed the book she was reading and threw it to the bedside table. “Perhaps… some light spanking?”

Francis blinked.

“Spanking…” he repeated, thoughtful.

“Very, very light. Just to get started. And with a safeword, of course.” She looked at him. “Unless you have other ideas?”

“N-no, I don’t…”

She gave him a serious look.

“Francis, if this is something you don’t want―”

“I do want it! I do. Or… or at least I’m interested.”

“Okay, I trust you.”

She threw an arm around his waist under the covers and smiled. Not a grin, but a smile. Francis turned his head to her and replied in the same way.

“I trust you, too.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight, Nanny.”

* * *

One of the very specific instructions she gave him regarding their new dynamic, was that he should never do something wrong on purpose to force an unneeded punishment. That would make her very mad, and ‘not in the fun way’ ―her words―. So the next days progressed rather normally, all the new spring activities not leaving a lot of time to be disobedient by accident.

To be honest, he didn’t want to be, either. Not because he wasn’t curious about what Nanny Ashtoreth had planned for the moment he failed, but because the concept of failing was somehow too much. He didn’t want to disappoint her. Yes, the kind of punishment they were going for was supposed to be enjoyable and he knew she wasn’t ever really disappointed over these things. It was just a game. And yet…

* * *

The night it happened, he was laying on his stomach with a pillow pressed against his erection and she was behind him ―on top of him―, telling him not to come. Something about the discipline they were implementing into their life.

“If you keep humping that pillow like a dog,” she whispered in his ear, “this will be over rather quickly.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” he sobbed against the mattress.

“Shhh, it’s okay. What’s your colour, darling? What is it?”

He almost said green. But green meant he was doing great and she would keep fucking him at that pace that got him at his limit. She was right; it’d be over too quickly if they didn’t slow down.

“Y-yellow…” he choked out through his tears ―which he was certain she couldn’t see from her position―.

“Okay, should I…?” She lessened the speed and power of her thrusts.

“I’m fine. I just… I can’t if you… if you go that fast.”

“You can’t what, Francis?”

“Stop myself from coming!” His crying was increasing and if he didn’t get it under control, she would notice and that would be the end of their experiment and, who knows! Maybe their relationship. If he failed hard enough…

“But this is what we’re trying to do here: teach you self-restraint. You need to be capable of holding yourself back.”

“I know! But I… I can’t…”

“Of course you can, dear.” Her hand went to his hair, grabbing without pulling as her voice dropped: “because you’re such a good boy.”

Oh… She shouldn’t have said that…

He came shamefully, like he never came before, choked by his own sobs, face hiding into the bed. Sweaty and pleased and disappointing. Useless before measure. Such a stupid lack of self-control she might mistake it for a purposeful disrespect to her authority. Why? He couldn’t deal with the simplest order. Why did she even like him?

“Let me clean this up, please,” she told him after a minute of silence, during which she appeared to have left to get everything necessary for this part of the process.

Francis lifted his hips and left her take the pillow from under him. She then held him up with her arm and cleaned his still sensitive cock with a warm towel.

“I’m not,” he mumbled, cheek pressed against the bed, eyes in the nothing.

“What was that?” she asked. He could tell she was walking away, probably to get rid of the dirty towel and pillowcase.

“I’m not a good boy, Nanny,” he repeated, louder, cheeks burning as he realized what he was saying. “I’m not. I can’t even―”

“Oh, dearest, don’t worry about that.” She returned to his side and put her hand on his back, trying to make him feel better. “You were lovely. I very much enjoyed you.”

“But I didn’t do what you told me.”

“You did your best. It was a first time. I know for certain how hard it can be.”

He raised his head.

“Do you?”

“Not really. Vaginas are already so difficult to work with.” She patted his shoulder. “Be grateful you’re only dealing with a penis and your biggest concern is coming too soon.”

That made him giggle.

“Well, I…” He lowered his gaze. “I’m more grateful that I get to… eh, deal with your…”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you.” And she kissed his cheek. “You’re still a good boy, Francis. You just need a little discipline.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Now get some rest.”

“So you won’t…”

“Oh, for Satan’s sake, no, not now. That poor arse went through so much tonight. Let’s give it a couple days.”

“Okay.”

He got ready to sleep as she now walked to the door.

“Francis,” she called from there.

He looked at her over his shoulder.

“Nanny is very proud of you and she’s very lucky to have you. It doesn’t matter when you come.”

The words melted his heart. If only they were enough to silence his thoughts as well…


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis can't handle the spanking.
> 
> TW: past child abuse, implied sexual abuse, cult stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter before I move this Sunday. Not sure when I'll be back. There's a lot of work to do at that place. I didn't want to leave you without some heavy reading. I hope you like it and please find me on Twitter as datcheesycake. I could write you something ;)
> 
> ALSO YAAAAAY 50 CHAPTERS

The first couple days, he knew she wouldn’t start anything related to his ‘punishment’, yet he was nervous. Every time she walked into the room or sat by his side with purposefulness ―the same way she did everything, to be fair―, he froze for an instant and instinctively tried to hide himself between his own shoulders.

She seemed to notice how jumpy he was, but never addressed it, or perhaps didn’t see the connection between the two facts. The most she did was put her hand on his back and give him a comforting rub, before reminding him they had somewhere to be ―the grocery store, if he remembered correctly, which he might not―. That was all.

The fourth day, Francis thought she had forgotten. She was allowed to forget, after all, with everything they were taking care of lately. Spring meant flowers and a veggie garden to keep, not to mention the drying snow in some spots of their property. Nanny Ashtoreth might be practically perfect in every way, but it wasn’t out of touch to believe even her could miss stuff from time to time.

However, he was wrong. That exact morning, when he walked into the kitchen, she left what she was doing to greet him with the usual peck and, as he wrapped an arm around her, she put her hand on his bum and said:

“How are we feeling down here?”

He considered lying, although he didn’t know why. It just came to his mind, the idea of… simply lying. It left quickly, though! Not only because her caregiver powers would give her the ability to… tell, but also because he was certain that, if he told her he was still sore, she would take him to a doctor. There’s only one thing more embarrassing than being taken to a bum doctor by your retired nanny who claims to have hurt you by pegging you too hard: have it proven untrue.

So he nodded instead.

“Good,” she grinned. “Now let’s get some breakfast, and Nanny will give you something special tonight.”

He gulped and sat by the table, wondering if he’d be able to sit down at all tomorrow.

What felt so wrong about that?

* * *

Nanny Ashtoreth sat at the feet of the bed and asked him to walk in. Both of them were wearing all of their clothes, at least for now. She saw how he didn’t move from the door and smiled at him.

“Come on, darling. Sit with me.”

She patted the spot beside her and he obeyed, head down as he took the assigned place. For a few instants, he didn’t even look at her. His gaze was fixed on the floor between his feet, the soft carpet, so familiar yet somehow surreal in the wildness of the situation.

Nanny Ashtoreth gently grabbed his chin and made him turn to her.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was as tender as her grasp.

Francis closed his eyes and nodded.

“Yes, just…”

“Nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Good nervous?”

_ No… _

“Yes.”

“Alright, then. Lay face down on my lap, please.”

He stared at her lap. An usual place of comfort, a place to return to. And now, a place he secretly feared. He looked back to her.

“Should I…” A gulp. “Should I take my clothes off?”

She shook her head and smiled, hand holding his.

“Not yet. We’re doing it over them, first. To get you used to the feeling.”

The feeling of being punished. He had been used to it before, but…

“Come here.”

She guided him to her lap, his stomach pressing against it, arms and legs hanging to both sides. From that angle, everything seemed even more confusing. It was dark and he couldn’t see a lot. He could only feel.

_ The feeling of being punished… _

Her hand touched his arse superficially. A light pressure, almost reassuring. He still jumped at it.

“We’ll make it five spanks with your trousers on,” she spoke, full of calm. “If you need more, we’ll give you more. Then, and only if you’re ready, we’ll remove them and give you five more on your bare bottom. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes.”

Of course it sounded fair. It was what he deserved after disappointing her.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

_ Never… _

“I am.”

Deep inside and despite how ridiculous it would be, he expected her to talk again. Provide a bit of warning, talk him into the new sensation, tell him what would happen. Remind him of his safeword, perhaps. Or just say he was forgiven and they could cuddle to sleep now.

She didn’t. Not a single one of those things Francis’ most irrational part expected. She just proceeded, his blessing achieved, no more negotiations required.

It didn’t even hurt that much. She was gentle by nature, maybe because she understood her own strength, and she’d never give him more than he could take. But it hurt. It hurt like nothing he had ever felt. It hurt so much tears jumped from his eyes immediately, and he could feel how they slid down his nose to their precious carpeted floor.

“That’s one.”

He nodded once more, although he was sure she wasn’t paying attention. She would only stop if he used his word and he’d never do that. Not with this.

The second one wasn’t as bad, but it wasn’t much better anyway. This time, he sobbed out loud and he was worried she might have heard him. She didn’t seem to have when she told him:

“That’s two.”

Three more. Three more and the spanking directly on his bottom. Then it’d be over.

The third one went almost unnoticed. His thoughts alone enough to water it down.

“Three.”

They were… halfway through, so to speak. He could take it, he could take it… He had to.

The fourth one was the most humiliating one. He was squirming and whimpering and his cock was starting to get hard and how? How could he be hard at this? That was disgusting. That was not the point.

He wanted to suffer all the way through it, clean himself from the sin committed.

“Four.”

The fifth one was a blow of fresh air. A relief. As she proudly announced the number, he relaxed on her lap, sweat running down his back, tears still falling. He had to cut it or she would find out.

“Very good, darling,” she celebrated, helping him up. “That was…”

Francis stood up and walked a few steps, not wanting to get away, but not wanting to be that close either. He couldn’t decide if he’d rather have company or be alone.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong…” he huffed a cynical laugh, so out of character for him, hugging himself. “Well, I am, aren’t I?”

He did his best to sound unaffected, sarcastic, fresh. He didn’t succeed.

“Everything’s alright,” he reassured her, the tone of his voice making it clear that wasn’t the case. “I swear, dearie, it’s just…”

“Francis, please come here.”

“I’m okay, really! Just… got a bit…”

“Scared?”

“Of you?” He turned around abruptly. “Dearie, how could you ever think―”

“Not necessarily me. Perhaps… the situation, in general? Did I do something that upset you?”

“No, you didn’t.” His back was to her again. “If anything…” He sighed. “I upset you.”

“Upset me?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. “How?”

“I disobeyed you. I have no self-control. And you… you want to punish me.”

Nanny Ashtoreth remained silent for a couple of instants, analyzing every single word and how to respond to it.

“Well, that’s true, but just if you want it. Never against your will. And not…” She made a pause. “Not really. Do you understand that? That I’m not really punishing you?”

“I do…”

“It’s just a game we play because it turns us on. Like you washing my underwear. I can wash my own underwear, I used to do it all the time, but you enjoy it so I let you do it for me.”

“And you enjoy this, too…” he struggled to say, “so I should…”

“No, Francis, that’s not how it works. You don’t have to do anything you don’t enjoy as well. I can live without punishing my submissive, I’ve lived like that several times. I’ve ever been in sexual relationships that had nothing to do with BDSM, not even what we do. This is not something you owe me.”

“But I agreed to it. And I want to be good. I want to follow your lead and come when you tell me to and… and all those things. I don’t like failing at it. But you’re right, I need discipline and I… What I said, I agreed. I deserve it, I…” He was starting to break down. “I deserve it, I do… I deserve it…”

He soon fell into a loop. He kept repeating that sentence until it lost all meaning, face hiding in his palms, body rocking back and front. It was so similar to what he did the morning they almost had penetrative sex. He failed that time, too.

“Francis.”

Her quiet call slowly pulled him out of his trance, although he didn’t stop covering or shivering. Just the sobs ceased.

Then she continued and it all came back to him:

“Francis, were you ever… hit as a child?”

He wasn’t covering anymore. His eyes opened wide and his neck turned on its own for him to look at her over his shoulder, shocked.

“Why would you say that?”

Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t afraid of the subtle accusation in his question.

“I’m just asking.”

“Why would you think that?” he insisted, alteration growing.

“It’s just a question, Francis. And by the way you’re reacting―”

“How would  _ you  _ react?” He turned around completely.

“Francis, there’s no need to―”

“No, listen… I…” He began to walk in circles, fingers running through his hair in a distressed ruffle. “I know what you’re thinking. But that… My mother was a good, Christian woman…”

“I never mentioned―”

“She never would have done anything to hurt me on purpose. Never.”

“Those things aren’t always out of―”

“She  _ loved _ me.”

“I’m not saying that she didn’t.” She shrugged. “She probably did love you, as mothers often do. But perhaps, and this is all speculation, she didn’t have the proper… tools to handle a child. And she did the best she could with what she had.”

He froze on the spot. His eyes filling with tears once more, lips starting to tremble.

Nanny Ashtoreth’s gaze was on his.

“I apologize if I’m wrong.”

He breathed out and rubbed his temples, exhausted. Finally, he went to sit with her, and she threw an arm around his shoulders and kissed his head.

“Tell Nanny.”

“I…” He searched for the right way to put it and realized it didn’t exist. She couldn’t get the wrong idea about something that never had a good explanation to start with. “She was a good woman, I swear. She didn’t want to do that. She never… intended to hurt me.”

“I believe you. Sometimes parents―”

“No, you don’t understand. She… she really didn’t want to. But they made her. And they made sure she did as they said.”

Nanny frowned, growing more and more invested in whatever twisted tale he was sharing.

“Who were  _ they _ ?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper and serious as a heart attack.

Francis shut his eyes and shuddered. If he focused, he could still hear them. Smell them, even, those neat-smelling hygiene products they all used; the pristinity of their cotton clothes. He couldn’t see them, though. Just abstract concepts dancing in his mind, pieces of a jigsaw puzzle with several of them missing. A tanned elbow, the same haircut for everyone, a forced smile.

“ _ Them… _ ” was all he could say at first. “The… the people we lived with. Our neighbors, my teachers… Our…  _ her  _ leaders.”

She encouraged him to go on, palming his back.

“They were very strict. Because they loved us, they said. They agreed with corporal punishment and advised all parents to apply it… if they didn’t…

”Um, adults could be punished, too. But it was worse, in front of everyone and sometimes… sometimes all alone. For days. To strengthen their character. Enlight them, purify them… I never saw it done to my mother, but I was there for… some other siblings’ punishments. Those weren’t very… very Christian.” He shrugged. “What else could she do?”

“So they threatened to hurt her,” she deducted after a while.

“They hurt her a couple times. Me too. One day our older siblings… not biological siblings, but the couple we lived with… they locked her out. And they left her there for a few days, knocking on the door. I didn’t go to school in two weeks because they didn’t want her to get to me. When she came back… she didn’t… She acted strange. Her face was strange. She had lost weight and even…”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

He shook his head as angst took over.

“I remember I told her… ‘why are you walking so funny?’”

“Oh, dear…”

“I didn’t get it at the time. She laughed it off and told me not to worry. But I did understand it was all my fault. Because I was bad. I did something, something a child would do, and they hated it. And they told her to punish me and she refused, so they left her out and someone did something to her. Someone punished her instead.”

“That was not a punishment and they had no reason to punish her… or to punish you.”

“But I was bad. I…”

“Francis, listen to me.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to make eye contact. “I’ve been a nanny for decades, I’ve met dozens of children, some of them were a nightmare to have around, but I’ve never once ―listen―, I’ve never  _ once _ met a single child who deserved to be hit. That doesn’t exist.”

“It doesn’t matter if I deserved it or not,” he cried. “They did it anyway. And I left… I could leave, as an adult. I chose to leave and I… I couldn’t get her out too. I left her there.”

Now he was in her arms, crying uncontrollably as she pet his hair. She kissed his temple and shushed before breaking the hug and staring at him.

“You were right to walk away and I’m sorry she couldn’t do the same thing. I really am. I don’t believe she was a bad woman; I think she was scared. But listen here, darling: parents should do everything in their power to save their children; children are under no obligation to save their parents. Not even from themselves.”

“She told me I was going to Hell.”

The pain in her eyes was real for a second. He could feel it. It pained her to know how much he had suffered. She brushed it off as soon as he noticed, though, too fixed on helping him.

“Quite the opposite, my dear,” she smiled, not too hard, not too happy, caressing his cheek. “You survived it. That’s another reason to be oh so proud of you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be.”

“Maybe you should always tell me the truth about what you feel. If we had gone any further with the spanking…”

He exhaled a resigned breath.

“I really wanted to like it,” he confessed. “It sounded good on paper. At least interesting.”

“Well, what did you find interesting about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know… I like it when you’re in control. I feel safe with you, like… like I don’t have to think or worry. I just have to be good. And I… I wish there was a way you could, eh, ‘train’ me? To be a better submissive and everything. To learn to climax when you tell me to. But I suppose it’s impossible.”

Nanny Ashtoreth thought about it.

“Maybe it isn’t…”

“It isn’t?”

With his permission to discuss sexual matters after such an emotional conversation, she began to explain.

Now that was something Francis could enjoy…


End file.
